


We Are Legion

by updatemelater



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, also there's no missiles detroying purgatory, and waverly drives the hell out of her jeep, because i don't want to deal with that, because wynonna and waverly being ride or die sisters is everything to me, but nicole is there for her, canon compliant up until the end of season 1, i'll put them through the wringer but give them a happy ending, it's a little angsty, like at every opportunity, pretty light on the doc and dolls but they're in it a bit, show typical violence, there's also the whole sister thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/updatemelater/pseuds/updatemelater
Summary: The aftermath of what happens when Waverly touches the goo. Spoilers for all of season 1.Lots of action and mystery and magic and fighting and sister bonding and Nicole and Waverly being unfalteringly in love, in spite of the evil that surrounds them.





	1. Devour the Lead

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy the story. I'm a whore for feedback. 
> 
> Waverly Earp is the actual sun and I thought it would be fun to see how she handles a little darkness in her. Also, Nicole Haught could punch me in the face and I would say thank you. 
> 
> Thanks to mollykatheryn and wanderson20 of the tumblrsphere for doing the beta dance. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at noxinamillionyears.

It calls to her.

Not in words, exactly. But, standing here in the snow, looking down at this puddle of _something_ , Waverly can feel it. She can almost make it out. 

It feels like… strength, and comfort, and… power.

She casts a furtive glance around her. Wynonna and Doc, too far away to stop her. Not that they even notice. And suddenly, there’s clarity and determination. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t plan. She doesn’t care if this is a horrible idea. She drops to one knee, and the call intensifies. It sings to her, a deep thundering rumble that makes her hand ache, even as she tugs off a glove. 

The instant her fingers touch the brackish liquid, Waverly’s entire world turns upside down. 

It isn’t just liquid.

It’s _alive_.

It’s alive, and now she is, too. 

She has control enough of her brain for just enough time to think, _What the hell…?_ and then her vision is collapsing, telescoping down to a pinpoint. There’s a rush unlike anything she’s ever felt, and the rumble inside shakes her. Her entire world is made of shadows and for one split second, she sees everything clearly, perfectly.

The curse. The hunger.

It needs… the Lead.

And suddenly, Waverly knows exactly what she needs to do to claim this feeling, this strength.

She can feel herself stand, turn, face Wynonna, but it’s like she’s on a ship far, far out from shore, watching this scene unfold. And she tries - god, she tries so hard - to call out, but it’s not her voice that’s working. It’s her arm. Her arm rising steadily. Her hand gripping something hard and cold, and then leveling it at her sister.

Wynonna’s eyes widen in surprise, and the gunshot echoes through the snowy landscape, sending a nearby flock of crows up into the air, the flapping of their wings and their startled caws impossibly far away in Waverly's ears.

Waverly's vision floods back suddenly, too bright, like stepping into the afternoon sun after watching a movie in a dark theater. She cradles her hand and looks from the gun that has fallen in the snow, up at Doc. His gun is still smoking, his hand steady. There's a look in his eyes that would have unsettled her. Before.

Now, it just feels like a challenge.

“Waverly...” Wynonna’s voice is gritty and low, her hand on Peacemaker. She doesn't draw. “What the hell was that?”

Waverly’s eyes flood with tears, and she tries to speak, but the words won’t come. Instead she gives one short shake of her head, and her hair falls into her face.

Wynonna shoots a look at Doc, and he reluctantly relaxes his gun.

There's something inside of Waverly that rumbles so deeply that she half expects the stones on the ground around her feet to be shaking and bouncing with the impact. It's like she's standing on a train track, watching a train hurdling towards her. She wants to brace herself, to throw her arms up and shield her face. It's so real, so intense, but there's nothing here. Nothing but Wynonna and Doc. And whatever she's carrying with her. 

_We will be stronger soon enough. We can do anything… together._

“I guess I’m just jumpy after Willa...” she finally says, at a loss. "I'm exhausted. I think I just need to sleep."

Wynonna squints.  

"Don't you want to check on Nicole? You know, your girlfriend who was just shot and could have died right in front of you?"

It flashes in her mind - the shot ringing her ears in the station, the smell of gunpowder, acrid in the air, Nicole’s body being tossed into the wall. A wave of nausea crashes over her. "She had a vest. I'm sure she's fine," Waverly's tone is clipped, and the huff that Wynonna gives her earns a look that stops whatever she's about to say.

“Okay.” Wynonna puts her hands up. “Let’s just go home.” Waverly wraps her coat tightly around her, like she's trying to hold herself in. She nods, and Wynonna glares at Doc. “Try not to shoot my baby sister," she tells him, and he gives her an exaggerated shrug but keeps his eyes on Waverly.

Waverly wonders if the temperature has fallen dramatically since this morning. She doesn’t feel Wynonna’s hand at her back as they walk or Doc’s arm brushing against hers or the stinging in her hand anymore. She doesn’t feel anything but the cold and hunger and the power.

—

The ride back to the homestead is quiet. Wynonna drives Waverly's Jeep, and Waverly pretends to sleep in the back, but she doesn't miss the shared looks between her sister and Doc all the way home. It's a tense silence, and when they pull up, Waverly’s never wanted anything in her life like she wants to be out of this small space, but she has to wait for Wynonna to pull her seat up and let her out.

Once she's free, Waverly makes a beeline for the house and doesn't stop until she's got at least two doors between her and Wynonna.

She's still freezing, but at least she's in her room. Comforting, familiar.

Then why doesn't she feel safe?

She stretches out on her bed still in her coat, closes her eyes, and listens for the whisper, that rumbling to surge up and speak to her again. She listens and waits, but all she really hears is her heart beating in her ears and the front door slam, a dull thud that rattles the vase on her dresser. Wynonna's heavy booted footsteps on the stairs. They fall silent and Waverly knows that Wynonna has stopped at her door.

"Waverly?"

Waverly holds her breath until Wynonna's boots thud back down the stairs, leaving her in peace.

Well.

_Not exactly **peace** , is it? _

"You're funny," she mumbles. 

There are things she needs to do, things she needs to read, to understand, but she hasn't slept in 24 hours and her eyes are heavy. Tomorrow she'll head to the library, but for now, she needs to rest.

Just before she falls asleep, there's another surge of cold within her and somehow she knows that if she opened her eyes, her vision would tunnel down, casting her world in shadow once again. It feels stronger this time, and she's too tired to fight it.

—

When Waverly wakes, it's dark outside. There's two missed calls and a text from Nicole that says "You okay?" on her phone.

She cracks her door and finds the house dark. No light under Wynonna's door.

"Wynonna?" she tries. Nothing. "Um, Shadow... Goo… Thing?" When there's no answering rumble, Waverly sucks a breath in.

It's too late to head to the library, but she can research some things online for tonight and then head over in the morning. She clicks on a light and scribbles in her new leather bound notebook:

\- Black demon(?) blood

\- Tentacle monster... thing

\- Ghost River Triangle Curse - how to break?

\- Dad????

She makes a pot of coffee downstairs and works for most of the night in her room, gulping down cup after cup, and doesn't see her phone when it lights up again on the bedside table.

—

The house is still quiet the next morning when Waverly snatches her coat off the wall and shuts the door behind her.

"Well, now. And where might you be running off to this fine morning?"

Waverly whirls around to see Doc sitting on the porch, tipping back in a wooden chair, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Jesus, Doc, you scared the crap out of me."

The chair thumps down and he tips his hat up. "My sincerest apologies. It was not my intention."

Waverly clutches the strap of her bag tighter and shifts her weight. "I have some research to do. About the ... thing that tried to take Willa. The stuff that Wynonna told me is not a lot to go on, but... I have to try."

"I would expect nothing less." He sits up a little straighter. "I was hoping I might catch you this morning." Waverly suspects that he might have spent all night in this chair, waiting for her, and she raises an eyebrow expectantly. "I would like to respectfully inform you that if you ever pull a gun on Wynonna again, or any other manner of weapon, I will not hesitate to incapacitate you in any way I can."

Waverly bristles. "I would hope so. I don't want anything to happen to Wynonna," she says, and immediately feels the answering rumble deep within. It's not entirely unpleasant, but it does put her on edge.

"Well, then," Doc says, "Just as long as we're clear."

"We're clear," Waverly says and practically runs to her Jeep.

As she's backing up, Doc gives a kind of cocky half-wave, half-hat tip, and Waverly winces out what she hopes looks like a smile.

She stresses all the way into town, worried that her vision will tunnel out while she's driving and she'll wrap her Jeep around a telephone pole. It doesn't, but the rumble is getting louder, and by the time she's seated at a table in the library, surrounded by a stack of books, she's sure that Mrs. O'Leary at the front desk can hear it too.

Her phone buzzes, and Waverly glances at it.

"Waverly, I'm starting to get worried. Please just let me know you're okay."

Suddenly, Waverly's palms are sweaty and she's not sure why. She tries to reach for her phone, but she can't lift her hands. She sucks in a breath and holds it, waiting for the world to dim. She looks down at her hands, one making notes and the other splayed over a book, holding it open. "Work, dammit," she whispers and then there's a shudder running through her body. When it's over, her hand twitches and reaches for her phone.

She types in, "I'm fine, Nicole. Just exhausted. Please don't worry." and hits send.

There's a response before she puts the phone down. "Thank you, baby. Can I see you tonight?"

The rumbling is louder than ever, and the nausea is back. She really wants to say yes, but... there's still so much for her to do.

She's typing without realizing it and once she hits send, her head clears and she sees the message she sent, which just says, "I'll call you later."

It sounds clipped and cold, and not at all how she wants it to sound. It's almost... dismissive. And it bothers her, it does, but she makes no move to send another. Instead, she focuses down on her research. The Earp line. The Earp men. Wendy Rossie, her mother, and whoever she might have had an affair with. Anything that might lead her to her real father, if Bobo was even telling the truth.

Deep down, Waverly knows that he was. Somehow, it’s something she’s known her entire life.

She's still sitting in the same spot with pages of her notebook filled up hours later, and when she finally looks up, she realizes it's dark outside. "Shit." She checks her phone. Almost 11:00. Closing time. “Shit shit shit.”

To her relief, there are no new messages from Nicole.

She packs up her stuff to head home, and tosses her phone in her bag. 

—

"Where have you been?" Wynonna sounds grumpy, padding into the kitchen in a tank top and underwear. 

"I could ask the same of you," Waverly says and Wynonna kind of nods in a way that makes Waverly feel like she has a point. She's hunched over a pile of books at the kitchen table, and Wynonna digs a bottle out of one of the cabinets.

"Where's Nicole?" she asks, after she drinks from the bottle.

Waverly shrugs. "Probably working."

Wynonna's brow creases. "You guys have a fight or something?" she asks, and Waverly looks up too sharply. "I just haven't seen her around in a few days, and after her getting shot and you guys getting... outed... I kind of figured you'd be pretty attached at the hip."

"We're our own people," Waverly says. "Just because we're not together every minute, doesn't mean something's wrong."

"Okay." It's not very convincing. "What is all this?" she asks instead, and Waverly moves to cover one of the books open in front of her. If Wynonna notices, she doesn't let on.

"I thought maybe I could narrow down whatever that thing was that had Willa. It's not much to go on - some kind of tentacle monster with… teethy pods, you said, right? - but I've been reading through old legends and some of this stuff is really interesting. I was kind of hoping it might lead to something that could break the curse."

Wynonna looks relieved. "Well, it's good to see you acting like Waverly again, baby girl." She bumps Waverly’s shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. "Call your girlfriend!" Wynonna calls over her shoulder and then escorts her bottle of whiskey into her room and shuts the door.

—

Waverly listens to the phone ring and chokes down the nausea rising in her throat. Maybe it will go to voicemail. Maybe she should just text Nicole instead. Maybe they'll—

"Waverly." Nicole's voice is neutral, almost distant.

"Hey, Nicole." Waverly hopes she sounds penitent.

And then for several excruciating seconds, neither of them say anything at all.

Nicole is the one who breaks the silence. "Are you okay? Like, really okay?" She still sounds passive.

"You're angry."

"Yes. But I'd still like to know if you're okay."

Waverly listens to Nicole's even breathing for a moment before she says, "I think so."

There's a faint sigh of relief. "Good. Okay. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not—"

"Waverly."

"I wasn't trying to. I've just been really busy with some of this research."

"Research into...?"

"It's classified," Waverly hears herself say softly, and Nicole scoffs.

"I'm Black Badge, Waverly. Full clearance. Well, Earp-level clearance, anyway. I even have a deputies badge straight from Dolls himself, which you would know if you'd returned any of my calls over the past three days."

"I'm sorry."

A pinched sigh comes through the phone. "I'd really prefer if we have this conversation in person."

"Uh..." Waverly looks down at her notebook. It's not quite as full as the one Doc had stolen from her, but it’s getting there.

"Seriously, Wave?" Nicole's voice is starting to sound less passive. "It's been three days since I was shot. I haven't seen you. We haven't spoken. You've barely texted me. I feel like I'm being ghosted."

There's a pang in Waverly's chest. "No! God, no, Nicole, that's not what's happening."

"Then what the hell _is_ happening?"

There it is. The rumble in Waverly's chest that she was beginning to wonder if she'd imagined. A warning, clear as day, and she tries to clear her head. She can feel herself getting further away, and she's afraid she's going to disappear this time completely. "I want to tell you," Waverly finally says, and it almost sounds like a prayer. To what god, she's not sure.

"Then tell me, baby." Nicole’s distance dissolves completely, just like that. "I mean, we're still going to have to work through some things, but if something’s going on, I want to help."

Waverly sighs and rubs her eyes. "Why don't you come over."

_Yes. Bring her. I’d like to meet her, Waverly._

It's all Waverly can do not to throw up then and there. 

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

She's actually there in fifteen, and Waverly's at the door when she climbs out of her cruiser, watching from the porch. Nicole's eyes are tired, and she's not in her uniform. Waverly frowns. 

"Are you not on duty tonight?"

"Actually, Nedley benched me. I’m on desk duty until I heal." She glances down at her chest, and Waverly understands.

"Are you alright?"

"Broken rib. Some bruising. I'll live." Her smile is so soft, even when she's angry. "It's better than the alternative."

At Waverly’s silence, Nicole leans against the door of her cruiser and crosses her arms. Waverly holds her ground on the front porch.

_We’re getting stronger, Waverly. All that sleep has done wonders. Shall we see just how much?_

Waverly grits her teeth, digs her fingers into the post that runs up to the overhang. 

"No," she whispers. 

_Yes. Let’s._

Something opens up deep within her, and that heady power flows into her once more like a broken dam, icy and rushing. She can barely catch her breath with the thrill of it.

Waverly’s walking forward with purpose now. A million miles away, snow and gravel crunch beneath her feet. No uniform. Closer. No hat. Closer still. No _gun_.

It's the tiniest opening. But it's enough.

The smile that cracks Waverly's face is ferocious, and the immediate fear and confusion on Nicole’s when she sees it is _delicious_.

Her hands wrap around Nicole’s throat, and Waverly feels like she’s in a soundproof box in a dark room, watching this unfold before her like it’s some kind of horrible movie someone is forcing her to watch.

 

Nicole is gasping for breath and clawing at Waverly’s hands and Waverly surges forward with this glorious unstoppable new strength, and crashes her tiny body into Nicole’s chest, aiming for the same spot Nicole had fielded a bullet not that long ago. Nicole’s eyes roll back and she crumples like a sack of flour, and Waverly follows her down, still choking, still grinning maniacally, frozen through and through.

“You’ll never stop us,” she hisses, as Nicole tries to kick her off.

“Wav--” she tries, but the air won’t come. Nicole’s face is bright red, her head lolling. She’s so close to passing out.

Inside the glass box, Waverly is crying and screaming and beating her hands to bleeding.

And then there's a sudden sharp pain at the base of Waverly’s neck and her eyes flash bright and roll up into her head, and the shadows turn to actual darkness.

—

When Waverly wakes, it’s dark and there are hushed voices floating up the stairs.  

"Did you have to hit her so hard? She’s been out for hours."

"Might I remind you that you could have had the life choked out of you, Miss Haught."

"She was still breathing when Doc carried her in, Nicole. She'll have a headache the size of Australia when she wakes up, but she'll be fine. Don't look at me like that. I'm not _happy_ that Doc clocked her."

“Yeah, well. Where were _you_?”

Waverly half sits up, straining to hear, and the rush to her head makes her dizzy. The back of her neck is throbbing. “You tried to kill my girlfriend,” she whispers.

_You tried to stop me._

“I’ll do it again.”

_You’ll fail._

“The hell I will.”

It’s an odd thing to have something that’s, well, not _you_ laugh from within. It bubbles up, and she gags.

_We were testing. She’s not really the one we want._

And suddenly, Waverly feels this _craving_. All she can think about is sliding Peacemaker from its holster and pressing the barrel between Wynonna’s eyes. To hold Peacemaker in her own hand and squeeze the trigger and watch Wynonna’s body go limp. It’s unbelievable how strong the desire is.

“I won’t,” she grits out.

_You will._

"How'd she get her hands around your throat, anyway? Is that some kind of kink you guys are into or —” Something cuts Wynonna off. “Jesus. I'm sorry. Okay?"

It seems like a lifetime before Nicole says, "I don’t know. It happened so fast. She moved _so_ fast. And her eyes were just...”

“What? What was wrong with her eyes?”

“They were just— black. Inky. It wasn’t her.” Nicole’s voice is so soft that Waverly can barely make out what she says next. “It was terrifying. _She_ was terrifying.”

Waverly rolls over and clamps a pillow down over her ear to drown them out, and she's glad she does because it muffles her sob just in time.

—

The next time Waverly wakes up, there are no voices, not even the whisper. Her room is dark, lit only by the moonlight spilling in through the window. Nicole is next to her, her back to the headboard, cradling Waverly's head in her lap. This is the first time in days that the thought of being near Nicole hasn't turned Waverly's stomach. Fingers stroke gently through her hair, but when Waverly turns her head further into her girlfriend, they fall still. 

"I don't know what to say." Waverly says after a long moment, voice muffled against Nicole. Nicole says nothing. "How do you even apologize for something like this?" She can hear her own brokenness. There are feather soft strokes against her hair again. "Say something," she mumbles against Nicole's thigh. When Nicole doesn't, Waverly chokes back another sob. "This is exactly why I was avoiding you. I was— I was afraid— I don't want to hurt you. God, Nicole, I feel like I would die if anything happened to you."

Waverly doesn't know how long she lays silently crying with Nicole's hands in her hair. It feels like forever. "I wish you'd talked to me." Nicole’s voice is so soft that for a moment, Waverly thinks she might have dozed off and dreamed it. 

There doesn't seem to be much to say to that, so Waverly lays still. She waits a long time. She waits for more words, for the hands in her hair to still, for Nicole's breathing to even out in sleep, but none of that happens.

Finally she asks, "Aren't you afraid to be alone with me?"

Nicole hesitates and then answers, "Yes."

A fresh sob wracks Waverly's body and Nicole continues to comfort her. "I'm so sorry, Nicole. You have to believe me."

"I know, baby."

"You don't _sound_ like you hate me."

"Because I don't hate you, Wave. Things are... weird right now. But we'll figure it out."

At this, Waverly sits up. Her eyes are swollen with tears, and the look on Nicole's face threatens to pull more out. And then she sees the fresh bruises on Nicole's neck, barely in the moonlight. Bruises in the shape of hands. And that's what does it.

"Hey." Nicole gathers her up and holds her, which just makes Waverly cry harder. The rumbling inside starts softly, gradually intensifying alongside her tears until it's unbearable. 

_You won’t save her._

She grits her teeth against it. Everything within her is telling her to get up, to get away from Nicole, and she fights it. God, she fights it so hard, burrowing into her girlfriend and gripping fistfulls of Nicole's t-shirt. How in the everliving hell is she supposed to _talk_ about something like this?

 _You_ **_can’t_ ** _save her._

“It’s not your fault,” Nicole says, her chin on the top of Waverly’s head. A laugh brushes out past her lips. “If I hadn’t been shot a few days ago, I would’ve had you, easy.” But it’s too light. Forced. There’s an underlying fear in Nicole’s voice, and it breaks Waverly's heart. 

Waverly pulls away. “Can I see?” she asks, and Nicole gingerly lifts up her shirt. Waverly has never seen such a dark bruise in her life.

“God, Nicole, it looks like an open wound.”

“It’s closed,” Nicole assures her, dropping her shirt. “Barely.”

_And I’m far too strong now for her to save you._

She almost believes it. Except that when Waverly presses first her forehead, then her lips to Nicole’s, the whisper snuffs out completely and Waverly forgets everything else but the two of them in that moment.


	2. Open the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly re-reads Bobo's letter and learns some distressing news. The gang searches for Dolls. Nicole stands her ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to wanderson20 for the beta assist. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. Things get a tiny bit heated but not enough to change the rating, I think. Typical show violence and drama, but nothing graphic.

A few days later, after nothing but sleeping and reading and listening to the whispers, Waverly takes herself for a walk and winds up at the police station, in the Black Badge office. It’s empty, and it feels like it has been for awhile. Ever since Dolls was taken, Wynonna’s been scarce, and she’s fairly certain that Wynonna wouldn’t be here of all places, not without Dolls. She’s probably running her operations out of Shorty’s, if she’s even running them at all.

Absently, Waverly stares at her evidence board and wonders if Shorty’s is even still open. It had been bought by Bobo, and now that he’d been… well, sucked into hell, was there anyone to run it?

Wynonna could be with Doc, but then Doc always seems to be lurking in the shadows with his revolver, ready to _incapacitate_ Waverly. The thought makes her glance over her shoulder subconsciously, but she’s alone.

Well, maybe not _alone_. She isn’t ever completely alone. Not anymore.

It’s depressing to think that, even with this voice in her head, whispering her promises of power and freedom, she’s still as lonely as ever.

Folded yellow papers catch her eye, sticking out from beneath a three-ring binder full of mugshots on the table. Waverly’s breath catches. Is that…

“Bobo’s letter.”

She snatches it up and pores through it hungrily. She’d only seen it once, and Willa and Wynonna were both there with her and they’d all been trying to save Purgatory and she hadn’t really had a chance to read it all.

“Dear Robert…” she mumbles as she reads. “The Lead… revenant of their choosing…” Waverly scrunches up her face. “What the hell...?”

Waverly heads straight for Nicole’s desk, clutching the crumpled letter in her hand. A few weeks ago, she would have been so much more careful with a piece of her family’s history, but all she can think about now is figuring this out.

She bangs the door open and Nicole looks up, a smile splitting her face on seeing Waverly, which immediately falters. “What’s wrong?”

They haven’t talked since that night, not really, and while the bruises on Nicole’s neck are fading, the uncertainty in her eyes is not. Waverly does not miss the way her hand pats at her belt, making sure her gun is on her, and she pushes her sadness down as she holds up the letter.

Nicole’s confusion grows, and Waverly shakes the letter again, coming around the front desk. “The letter from my great-great-grandfather to Bobo?” she asks, clearly expecting Nicole to be in the loop, but she’s met only with an apologetic shrug. “Here, just read it.” She thrusts it down on Nicole’s desk. 

“How old is this?” she asks.

“Old.”

Nicole’s brow creases as she reads. “The willing heir on the Winter Solstice with the Revenant of their choosing…” Her eyes dart up to Waverly’s. “The Lead?”

“The heir. It was Willa. Wynonna now. I guess whoever it is can open the Triangle for revenants — and whatever else — to just come and go as they please.” Nicole nods, still reading, but Waverly’s off and running now. “Willa tried to open it. Well, she _did_ open it. She went through and Wynonna had to… stop her. Wynonna came back and resealed it. But apparently if that fails, there’s another way. Some other way in and out of the Triangle.”

“A gate.” Nicole looks up again, worry clear in her eyes. “A gate that opens with a key.”

Waverly crosses her arms, hugging tight against her own chest to calm the rumbling from deep within. “We have to find out where it is and seal it shut.”

“How are we going to do that? It could be anywhere.”

It’s only then that Waverly notices the crumpled piece of brass on Nicole’s desk. Her brow furrows. “Is that what I think it is?”

The bullet. The one the nearly killed Nicole.

Nicole shrugs. “It seems silly to keep it, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out, for some reason. I’m still not really sure what to do with it.”

It’s out there before Waverly can stop it. “Can I have it?”

—

Nicole tries to call Wynonna, but it goes to voicemail.

“Where is your sister, anyway?” she asks, and before Waverly can respond, she’s leaving a message about a gate somewhere in the Ghost River Triangle and how they need to find the key to it so that no one opens it and to please for the love of god call Waverly and let her know that you’re okay. Waverly thinks that the last part is solely for her benefit, and she smiles a smile that Nicole warmly returns before hanging up and saying, “Okay, so what do we do now?”

And then Waverly stands up tall and she’s full of sunshine like she used to be, before the shadow came. “Simple. We reopen the Black Badge office.”

—

Waverly’s sleeping at the table in the Black Badge office, her reading glasses askew, her face smushed against an open biography of Wyatt Earp, when her phone rings.

“Wynonna?” she asks sleepily. There’s drool in the book and the glossy photo insert is stuck to her lip. She pulls it off and sits up.  “Where are you?”

“Doing a little recon, baby girl. Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Waverly pulls off her glasses and rubs her eyes.

“Glad to hear it. Listen, I need a favor.”

“Did you get Nicole’s voicemail?”

“About some gate into Purgatory? Yeah, I got it. Sadly, it’s going to have to wait. One apocalypse at a time, right?”

Waverly narrows her eyes. “Something tells me I’m not going to like your favor.”

—

The favor, it turns out, doesn’t bother Waverly in the slightest. It’s Nicole who’s got the problem with it.

“Absolutely not.”

“She wouldn’t ask if it weren’t really important, and with Dolls gone, you’re the only one that can help us.”

“You’re asking me to do this _because_ Dolls is gone.”

“ _And_ because we need you to in order to get him back.”

Nicole pinches the bridge of her nose. “Waverly, I’m a cop. There are certain things that I just can’t do, not even for the greater good. Besides, a small town sheriff's office has very little pull regarding government agencies. There’s really no way for me to do any digging on this. And even if I wanted to, I’m not sure that sending you off half-cocked right now with—” Nicole waves her hand around her eyes— “whatever’s going on with you is the best idea.” She lowers her voice. “I mean, we don’t even know what we’re dealing with, do we?”

Waverly huffs.

_You don’t need her. I will show you the way. You forget how much knowledge I have. How much we have together._

She levels a look at Nicole and wills her vision to stay focused. “Fine. I’ll do it on my own.” She spins on the ball of her foot and is out the door with Nicole’s “Waverly!” hanging in the air behind her.

—

The world is made of ice and shadow once more when Waverly calls to tell Wynonna, “I know where they’re keeping him.”

—

She’s getting the hang of this, she thinks. She doesn’t get as dizzy now when her vision tunnels out and it’s getting much easier to see even though it feels like she’s looking through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. Wynonna hears her crunching in the snow behind her, and she spins awkwardly in her crouching position, trying to maintain the little cover she has behind the bushes. Waverly doesn’t feel the urge to murder her immediately.

Well, she _does_ , but it’s less of a scream and more of a whisper.

It feels like progress.

“Woah,” Wynonna says and puts her hands up. “You’re not gonna…” When Waverly tilts her head in confusion, Wynonna waves her hand around her face almost exactly like Nicole had done.

“Why does everyone keep doing that to me? It’s starting to feel like the official Waverly Earp salute.”

She hears the click of a revolver cocking and then Doc’s unmistakable drawl. “You must understand that the last time Wynonna and I saw you looking like that, it nearly ended in quite a mess. And I’m certain that Miss Haught would agree.”

“I’m getting much better at controlling it.”

“I wonder,” says Doc, “if that’s true or if the Old One is just letting you _think_ that it’s true.”

Wynonna stands up and throws a look at Doc. “The Old One?”

“Something Bobo said to me before he… passed. I think it’s what was trying to get in when Willa opened the gate.”

_The gate._

The word registers on Wynonna’s face. “Do you think _that’s_ the gate into the Triangle? Where we lopped that thing’s tentacle off?”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me about that, by the way. Listen, I don’t mean to be a drag or anything,” Waverly says, “but I’m kind of juiced up here and I think we should maybe get this party started while I’m good.”

“ _Good_ is not the word I’d choose,” Wynonna mutters when Waverly presses ahead of her.

“Miss Earp, I’d remind you that if you so much as _look_ at Wynonna awry, I’ll—”

“Incapacitate me,” Waverly interrupts. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

When they reach the door, there’s a keypad.

“You’re sure Dolls is in there?” Wynonna hisses in Waverly’s ear, and her only response is to tug off her glove and hover her hand over the keys. Waverly’s whole world rumbles as tendrils of black smoke pour off of her fingers and seep into the buttons. There’s a spark and a sizzle as the keypad fries.

Waverly throws a smirk over her shoulder and pulls the door open. Doc and Wynonna share a look.

She strides down the compound hallway like she owns the place, everything slowed down exponentially. There’s a distant shout as operatives realize she’s there, and they mobilize, and rush her. She easily sidesteps, smirking all the while. Wynonna’s never seen her baby sister like this. She brings that godawful hand up and touches skin, one after the other. They all shake like they’ve been electrocuted and drop, falling in a heap, several at a time. Black smoke curls from her fingers and snakes into their nostrils, eyes turning black as she steps over their bodies. Overhead lights surge, sending showers of sparks down around her.

Cancel that. Wynonna’s never seen _anything_ like this.

_More, Waverly. More._

The whispered “more” shatters and splits and at first Waverly thinks it’s an echo until it repeats over and over and she realizes that it’s _actually_ more. More whispers. Too many of them. She’s feeding them, and they’re growing. She’s heady with power. Unstoppable.

She imagines this is _way_ better than being the heir. It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

With each operative, more voices split inside of her. It’s near deafening, by the time she reaches the cell where they’re holding him.

_Here._

She rips Dolls’ door right off its goddamn hinges, and Wynonna’s mouth hangs open.

Dolls is tied up, suspended by his arms from the ceiling by ropes, like he's on an invisible cross, hooded and bleeding.

Wynonna cuts him down, and while she and Doc support his broken body, Waverly just turns her dark eyes to the hallway once again.

“Everyone ready? Let’s get out of here.”

—

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Doc asks Wynonna on the drive home.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Because my baby sister is one of the fucking X-Men?” Doc’s confusion is apparent. “Nevermind.”

Waverly pretends to be asleep in the front seat this time while Doc tends to Dolls in the back. She’s not sleeping. She’s thrumming with power, high on this energy that’s coursing through her. She doesn’t want to cut it off.

_So don’t._

She grips the balled up coat beneath her head.

_You need us as much as we need you._

That’s what scares her more than anything.

—

“She’s sleeping.” Wynonna’s voice carries up the stairs, and Waverly blinks. Well, she’s not anymore, Waverly thinks. It’s storming out. One of those downpours where you can feel the electricity in the air, and each crack of lightning only brings it closer.

She’s no stranger to storms like this, but this is the first time it’s felt like there’s more electricity inside of her than there is out in the storm.

“Yeah? You notice how she’s been sleeping an awful lot lately?”

“It’s not _that_ much.”

“Really?”

Nicole. Suddenly, Waverly is wide awake. Her entire body still thrums from Dolls’ rescue mission. Having that much power coursing through her was unreal. Unsettling. _Amazing_.

There’s nothing that she wants more in this moment than to have Nicole Haught in her bed. She sits up, her entire body soaked with sweat.

“It’s been a tough couple of weeks for everyone.”

Nicole scoffs. “Are you really that full of yourself? I mean, yeah, this whole town has been pulled through the wringer, but Waverly has something _living inside of her_. Something evil. God, Wynonna, she needs you. And you don’t even see her. No wonder she’s so lonely.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Just tell her I came by.”

“Listen, _Nicole_. I’m glad that Waverly likes you. And you’re a huge step up from Champ Hardy. But this is still my family. She’s _my_ sister.”

“Then maybe you should act like it.” Nicole’s voice is still even, but even in the racket of the storm, Waverly can tell that she’s seething.

“Excuse me?" 

“Like how about not asking her to get her girlfriend to find and leak government documents to civilians? Or not sending her into a black site where she could legitimately get hurt to rescue your ‘boss.’” Waverly can hear the air quotes from her bedroom. “She doesn’t have tactical training, and she could have _died_ , Wynonna. Maybe you should spend more of your time actually trying to find out what’s possessing her and helping her than you do at the bottom of a friggin bottle. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of goddamn superhero?”

Waverly is down the stairs before Wynonna can retaliate, grabbing Nicole by the hand and pulling her much too forcefully out the front door and into the storm. She can hear the screen door crack closed, even with the rain thundering down, as she drags Nicole into the barn and pushes her against the wall.

Nicole’s chest is still badly bruised and it knocks the wind out of her, but Waverly doesn’t slow, pushing her lips against Nicole’s, and pulling and clawing and trying so hard to wrap a leg around Nicole’s hip, both of them soaked through and shivering.

Nicole’s hands are on her shoulders, trying to push her away. “Wave—” she tries, but her mouth is muffled with Waverly’s. She pushes again, harder this time, and Waverly honest to god _growls_ at her.

“Want you now.”

“Okay, but can we—” she shoves, harder than she means to, and Waverly stumbles back, blinking. “Hey,” Nicole starts softly, reaching for her girlfriend, but when she sees the shadow swirl and envelop Waverly’s eyes entirely, she clamps her mouth shut and reaches for her gun.

Waverly is faster, and Nicole finds herself with her arm pinned to the barn wall beside her head, gun clutched tightly in her hand.

“What are you going to do, Nicole? _Shoot_ me?”

Nicole apparently hasn’t thought that far ahead.

“Doc won’t save you this time,” Waverly says and moves to kiss her again.

“No,” Nicole says firmly, grimacing. “He won’t save you either.”

And Waverly braces herself for the impact that must surely follow such a threat, but instead Nicole’s free hand touches her face, and she says “Waverly” so gently, _so_ tenderly, like it’s some kind of call across time and space itself.

And Waverly hears her.

And then Nicole presses her rain spattered forehead against Waverly’s, and the air rushes out of Waverly’s body. Her eyes winch shut and she drops to the dirt.

—

When Waverly comes to, she notices a few things immediately. She’s wrapped in a blanket, but still freezing. She’s sitting on the bed in the barn. Nicole is sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, her gun holstered at her side, her eyes trained on Waverly’s face.

There’s a pinch at Waverly’s wrists and she looks down and sees Nicole’s handcuffs, and her face blanches. She throws a guilty glance upward.

“Now,” Nicole says in that very soft drawl. “We’re going to talk about this.”

And Waverly can feel herself nod slowly.

“Is it some kind of… demon?” Nicole is still getting used to saying these things out loud.

“If… if we wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead.”

Nicole laughs at that. “Well, I just feel so much better about things now.”

“No, it’s not… it’s not like that. I _wanted_ you.”

“Yeah, that much I got, Waverly. I normally want you, too, but that didn’t feel like it was you. It didn’t even feel human.”

“I was! I am. Human.” Nicole hums, and Waverly can tell she doesn’t buy it. She flexes her wrists, and the cold steel tension against them kickstarts that thrumming once again, on a much lower frequency this time, but still there. God, is it ever. She tries to push it down. “You know,” she says with that coy smile of hers, “we could easily break these any time we want,” and Nicole quirks an eyebrow. 

“Uh-huh,” she says, but she subconsciously rubs at the fading bruises on her neck and it’s apparent that she might believe it. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

The thrumming intensifies.

“Why don’t you come over here and I'll explain it to you?”

“Mmm, no. I think I’m just fine right here.”

“I really don’t appreciate being treated like a common criminal.” Waverly’s tone is flirtatious, insinuating. Nicole’s face instantly hardens.

“What _are_ you?”

Hazel eyes widen, and all of Waverly’s coyness evaporates. “I’m… I’m Waverly.”

“Waverly and….?”

Thrum. “Too many to count.”

“Jesus. Okay, well, that’s a little overwhelming.”

“They won’t hurt you. They know how I feel about you.”

“Wave, do you think they really care what you want? How you feel?”

“I can control them.” _You can’t._ “I can.”

“I feel like maybe we should be looking into how to stop them.”

“They won’t like that very much.”

“I don’t give a shit what they like. They’re possessing my girlfriend.”

Thrum. “You can’t stop us. The gate was always meant to be opened.”

“It was, huh? So, why haven’t you opened it yet? Don’t have the key?” Waverly just smirks at her, and Nicole changes tactics. “Where is the gate?” Waverly flexes again and one of the links in Nicole’s handcuffs bends. It’s not lost on Nicole. “Okay! Okay. We don’t have to talk about the gate.”

“I’d rather not talk at all.”

“Waverly.”

“I just… Listen, okay? I had a very long, very hard day. I found and saved Dolls singlehandedly. I…” Waverly smiles sheepishly. “Got in touch with my darkside. And I swear I was in control the whole time, Nicole, but god, all that energy has to _go_ someplace, and it left me… kind of… _very_ … in the mood to be with you.” Her eyes are still dark, but in a way that Nicole knows, a way that she loves, and it takes Nicole's breath away. "I want to touch you like you wouldn't believe." 

Nicole closes her eyes and tries to steady herself. “That actually makes a lot of sense, Wave, but right now I can’t really see where you end and _they_ begin." Her voice cracks. "It’s not happening. Not until we can figure this out.”

“Okay.” Waverly chews her lip and slumps. “Okay. I really am exhausted.”

“Come on,” Nicole says, and she pulls Waverly up and searches her eyes. “I’m going to take these off, and I need you to be you, Waverly. Okay?” Once she’s satisfied that Waverly’s the one who’s driving, she clicks off the handcuffs and snaps them back into her belt. And then she’s wrapping Waverly up in her jacket and walking her back to the house, doing her best to be a shelter against the storm.

“Will you stay tonight? They’re quieter with you here,” Waverly asks once Nicole pulls them in from the rain once more and wipes at the hair plastered to Waverly’s forehead. 

There’s another searching, searing look, and Waverly does her best to meet it head on. “Will you respect my boundaries?” Nicole finally asks.

Chin trembling, Waverly nods. And that seems to be enough for Nicole. “This is probably a very bad idea." She kisses Waverly chastely and takes her by the hand. "Come on," she says, and she leads her upstairs.


	3. Destroy the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly visits the Blacksmith's house again. Her mother leaves her something that might be a clue into who she is. She tries to protect her sister but ends up hurting someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typical show-type violence but nothing too graphic. 
> 
> Hope you guys like where this is going. It's too late to back out now. I'm committed.
> 
> Big shout out to wanderson20 for the epic beta skills.

Waverly stops at the hardware store to pick up a spool of wire and the thinnest needle nose pliers she can find, her fingers toying with the crumpled chunk of metal in her pocket while she waits in line to lay out her cash on the counter in order from smallest bill to largest.

—

Gus helps her drill the tiniest hole, in her workshop out at the farm, and when it’s done, Waverly kisses her on the cheek.

“Thank you, Gus. For everything.”

She watches her aunt lean against the fence post in the rearview mirror as she drives away, and she remembers everything Gus has done for her. How she’s been there for her when no one else was. Her and Curtis and Shorty. How there’s only Gus left out of all of them.

She doesn’t know why, but she goes to the Blacksmith’s house instead of heading home. She cries all the way there.

—

Her first attempt is a mess. The wire’s all jumbled and wrong. Bulky. She snips it away and tosses the wasted wire on the floor of the Blacksmith’s shop. It wasn’t that long ago that she was standing right here, marrying a skull. She rolls the metal in her fingers, squinting with a half-cocked head, trying to imagine what it should look like. What it should become. She knows that it’s just a piece of brass. That it doesn’t mean anything, not really.

Except that to her, it means everything. It’s a tangible reminder of everything she has. Of everything she might have lost in one horrible moment.

She takes a deep breath and tries again, tries to do it justice.

She pours every ounce of love she has for Nicole into it, imagining it hanging around Nicole’s neck as she works the metal. Envisioning it speeding through the air, impacting her chest, catching her off her feet. Instead of seeing pain and blood, Waverly imagines that when the bullet strikes her, it wraps her in a soft blue light, encasing her, protecting her. Making Nicole bulletproof, with or without a standard issue vest.

Truthfully, she’s thrilled that Nicole was wearing one, but what if the next time, she’s not? What if she can’t find one or doesn’t have time to put one on? What if she doesn't know that she’ll be in danger? What then?

Waverly twists the metal and pulls, unaware that tears are falling until they splash on her fingers, on the bullet itself. Unaware that she’s mumbling _praesidio ei, praesidio ei, praesidio ei_ the entire time under her breath.

_protect her, protect her, protect her_

It takes her over an hour to get it right, but when she’s finished, there’s a wasted bullet hanging from a long chain wound around her fingers, crumpled where it had impacted Nicole’s vest, and repurposed into something new, something good. An actual thing she can feel against her skin to remind her of just how close she’d come to losing Nicole and how in that one single instant, there was not a shadow of doubt in her mind that she loved Nicole Haught with all her heart.

—

Nicole isn’t at the station or Shorty’s or at home.  

When Waverly literally runs into Sheriff Nedley her second time checking the station in as many hours, he tells her that Nicole is out on a call and that she’s welcome to wait for her. He doesn’t act any different now that he knows about them, and Waverly’s thankful for that.

Waverly chews her lip and then goes home. It doesn’t occur to her that Nedley had put Nicole on desk duty while her ribs were healing or to ask him why he would send her out on a call in that case.

—

Wynonna is slumped on the couch, a bottle of whiskey dangling against her thigh.

The rumble that surges within Waverly when she sees her sister is like being suddenly thrust over the edge of a waterfall, and she staggers back, catching herself. She feels like all of her molecules will split away at once.

Nicole’s necklace in her hand feels like fire, like it might sear a hole right through her skin. She shoves it in her coat pocket and closes the door, doing her best to focus on the cool knob in one hand, the feel of the splintered wood against the other, to steady herself against the tremor ripping through her. It’s agony, and she shuts her eyes tight against it.

“You look like hell,” she tells Wynonna without turning around.

“Feel like it,” Wynonna answers, her words slurred. “I could say the same for you. Rough day?”

Waverly breathes, fighting to keep focus. “Actually, no. I…” She finally turns to face her sister, pressing her back against the door, breathing evenly through her nose. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“Revenant nest.” Wynonna takes a swig from the bottle. “Put down three of ‘em.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t get hurt,” Wynonna says, but Waverly thinks there might be tears in her eyes. She moves to stand and Waverly holds up a hand to stop her.

“Please don’t. Not any closer.” Wynonna’s face twists, but she slumps back into the couch, and Waverly says, “I’m afraid they’ll kill you. Or they’ll make me... They don’t… they don’t like you very much.”

Another swig. “They?”

“There’s more of them now. It’s... complicated.”

“I thought we were dealing with the Old  _One_.”

They definitely don’t like that, and Waverly laughs weakly. “I think it’s safe to assume that Old _Ones_ might be more accurate.” She allows Wynonna a minute to process. “It’s not a demon.”

“No shit. Demons can’t cross the homestead line.”

“No, Wynonna. What I mean is, I think it’s much, much worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than being inhabited by a demon?” she asks, and Waverly doesn’t want to say it. Not out loud. _Being inhabited by a god._ She can feel a thousand shadows sneering at her at once, coiling around inside of her like some kind of living vortex. They’re going to rip her apart before this is over.

_Still think you can control us?_

Wynonna takes another swig from the bottle.

“So, you raided a revenant nest? Alone?”

“Defiantly. Defiant… Definantly?” She crinkles her nose. “For sure.”

Waverly sighs and pushes herself off the door, snagging the bottle from Wynonna’s hands. “Do _not_ follow me,” she warns, and walks into the kitchen.

There are more items in their house that could be used as weapons than ones that couldn’t, and she passes by a half a dozen of them on her way through. With this drive pulsing inside of her to kill her sister, she figures that being in another room right now is probably the way to go, especially with Wynonna being too impaired to really defend herself.

Once Wynonna’s out of sight, Waverly realizes just how much her head aches from the effort of staying in control. She dabs at her nose and her fingers come away bloody. Fantastic. How much longer can she keep this up?

She thunks the bottle down on the counter and makes a pot of coffee. While it brews, she pulls a cup down and slides open the drawer to get the six packets of sugar that Wynonna will need before she’ll even consider drinking a cup. The drawer snags, won’t open more than a few inches.

“Shit,” Waverly cusses, and pulls harder. It’s jammed.

She has to lift it off of the track to pull it free, and when she grabs a flashflight and shines it down to see what’s catching it, there’s a single gold key hanging at the very back, on a hook that has finally come loose after what looks like years.

“Wynonna? Is this your key? It kind of looks like it belongs to—” she pulls it loose and runs a thumb over the numbers etched into it. “A safe deposit box.”

A key.

_The_ key?

She snorts. How incredibly lame would that be?

She pockets it and takes Wynonna her coffee, but Wynonna is sprawled on the couch, snoring gently. Her guard down. Unprotected. Waverly’s eyes flick to Peacemaker.

THRUM.

Waverly drops the coffee like it’s burned her and dashes through the front door, all the way to the Jeep, and doesn’t stop driving until she’s in town.

—

The bank teller gives Waverly a wide smile when she steps up to his window and twists the key in her hand.

“Hi, Waverly. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Hey, James. Can I get into the safe deposit box this goes to?”

“Sure. Just step around.”

James leads Waverly behind the counter to the vault and holds the door open for her. “Let me just…” He opens a file box and finds the right card. “Belonging to…” He scans the card. “Wendy Rossi. Don't think I know her. I’m guessing she’s not with you.”

Her mother.

Waverly’s mouth has gone dry. She can only shake her head.

“Or…” The bank teller squints. “This handwriting is… Oh, here you are. I just need to see your photo ID. Sorry. It’s our standard procedure.”

“No, it’s fine,” Waverly mumbles.

Numbly, she shows him her driver’s license and waits for him to jot down her information on the card. He finds the right key on his ring, and opens the box in the wall, and then slides the thin metal box across a high counter in front of her. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything,” he says and steps out to give her some privacy.

And then it’s just her and this box. This box that her mother locked away and put her name on before leaving without a word.

She waits for something— anything— from the shadows inside of her to weigh in, but everything it still. The calm before the storm.

“Please don’t be a gate to hell,” she whispers, and she pops the metal latch.

—

It’s not a gate to hell.

It’s not much of anything, to be honest. There’s exactly one item in the box - a few sheets of paper, folded in thirds. Not nearly as old as Wyatt’s letter to Bobo.

She gingerly unfolds them.

“Wen…”

It’s another letter. A letter to her mother.

Eyes wide, Waverly flips to the end to see the signature. _Billy._

She slams the box closed, calls “thank you!” to the flustered James, and practically runs out of the bank.

—

She doesn’t go home.

Wynonna’s there and she can’t trust herself right now around her sister. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the shadows within.

She thinks about trying to find Nicole again, but decides against it. A letter of her mother’s. The only thing she’s ever had of hers. This is something she needs time and space to process.

She ends up perched on a split-rail fence just on the edge of town, cows’ mooing muffled behind her against the snow. It’s a good while before she’s able to bring herself to pull the pages from her pocket and really look at them.

The more she reads, the more certain she is that this letter was written by her father. Her _real_ father.

He speaks of their affair, secret meetings and stolen kisses, and how he would take care of her mother forever if she’d let him. How he knows he’s never been a good man, but how he wants to try, blind and stumbling in the dark as best he can, to try and make some kind of life for her. How he knows that she’ll break his heart— how, even so, he wishes she would come over the homestead line to meet him one last time.

“I know it would rip me apart to follow you when you leave, just as I know that you _will_ leave,” Waverly whispers, reading. “But my heart will be with you, wherever you go. It’s yours, always, Billy.”

Waverly’s eyes widen, and she’s happy that she decided to do this alone because with darkness swirling and building inside her chest, she’s not entirely sure if she could keep herself from hurting anyone in this moment, not even Nicole.

She crumples the letter in a fist, and when she speaks, her voice is somehow hers and a multitude of others at the same time.

“My father was a revenant?”

—

_Billy_.

There’s something right on the tip of her brain. If she could just get her eyes to focus back in, if she could just muffle the rushing in her ears, maybe she could clear everything else away enough to see it. On the plus side, it’s getting easier to drive with her vision scoped out. Her reflexes are so much sharper that it’s difficult not to push her Jeep way over the speed limit, but there’s a kind of image in her mind of a disapproving scowl on the face of one of Purgatory’s finest that quells the desire.

It’s just as well. Gives her time to think, to turn the name ‘Billy’ over in her mind.

“Who are you?” she mumbles out loud more than once before pulling into a parking space at the station and heading for her books in the Black Badge office.

—

It only takes her a few minutes to find it.

There’d been a few Billys that had come up in Wyatt’s biography — apparently, it was a pretty popular name back then, particularly among outlaws — but one in particular kept popping up. That itch in her brain. The moment her eyes fell on the name, it intensified.

“Billy Clanton,” she tries the name out loud. “Stole Wyatt’s horse and had it for…” Her eyebrows lift. “A full year before Wyatt tracked him down.” She continues reading, occasionally whispering details out loud to herself. “Shot and killed in the shootout at the… Woah.” She flips to the image index and traces her finger along the column. “Billy… where are you?”

_Clanton, Billy_. There’s a page number.

She flips to the page, and Waverly’s heart stops full in her chest.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

Her own eyes stare up at her from the page, frozen for a moment in time, and there’s not a doubt in Waverly’s mind.

“Bobo wasn’t lying. I’m not an Earp.”

—

Much later in the day, after spending who knows how many hours with her nose buried in books, it dawns on Waverly that she hasn’t seen Nicole all day.

She grabs her phone.

No new messages, either.

“What kind of routine police call takes eight frickin’ hours?” she asks the empty room before firing off a text: _Where are you? I need to tell you something._

It’s not exactly like she can call Wynonna about this. _Hey, sis, remember how dad used to ignore me completely? It turns out, it’s because he knew that mom had a guy on the side and that I’m a product of that indiscretion. Want to help me track him down? You’ll probably have to kill him to break the curse, but can you do that_ **_after_ ** _I make up twenty years of lost time with him?_

Yeah, no.

For now, Waverly will have to navigate these icy black waters all on her own.

It scares her almost more than having a thousand voices promising her untold power and writhing within her day and night, urging her to murder her own sister. Well, maybe it’s not _quite_ that scary. But it’s up there.

—

The hair on Waverly’s neck bristles, and she knows without turning around who’s walking down the corridor, heading straight for the Black Badge office.

She’s on her feet and at the door before Wynonna gets there, and when the door opens, Waverly clamps a hand around her throat, killing whatever Wynonna was going to say before it can leave her mouth. Wynonna’s eyes are wide, and Waverly’s are pitch black. She’s a thousand miles away, locked inside her unbreakable box, watching this unfold.

Wynonna rolls her eyes, and then Peacemaker is pressed firmly against Waverly’s forehead, it’s barrel glowing a bright blue filigree. She may as well have pulled the trigger with the way Waverly recoils, a thousand voices shrieking inside of her. It’s all Waverly can do to not press her hands over her ears.

“We’ll kill you!” she gasps, clawing at Wynonna’s wrist.

Wynonna holds firm, and follows her, all the way down to the ground, pressing down hard right between her baby sister’s eyes.

“So kill me,” she says in that even voice.

Waverly gasps, blinks, and looks up with clear eyes. Waverly’s eyes. “Wyn— Wynonna. Please.”

Wynonna visibly relaxes, but does not let up with Peacemaker. “You okay, baby girl?” When Waverly, wide-eyed, finally manages a nod, she smiles. “I’ve shot you before, and I’ll do it again, right?” she asks, and then when Waverly smiles, she thinks that maybe they’ll make it out of this. Then she’s leaning down again, and sets her jaw. “Hey asshole. I know you can hear me. I don’t give a shit how old you are, or how many of you there are, or how much of a hold on my sister you have. You will never know pain like the pain I will introduce you to if you hurt her.”

“ _Hurt_ her?” Waverly sinks beneath the icy water once more, and a sneer surfaces in her place. “All we’ve ever done is _help_ her. More than you ever will.” Waverly sits up straighter, Peacemaker searing into her skin with an audible sizzle. “Did you even know that she’s not an Earp?” For a moment, Wynonna looks as if she’s the one who’s taken a bullet. “Of course you didn’t. Because Waverly doesn’t trust you enough to talk to you about her private life. She didn’t tell you about Nicole, and she didn’t tell you that you’re not. Even. _Sisters_. And you think you have some kind of power here? It’s pathetic.”

Wynonna has never before heard the venom that’s dripping from Waverly’s tongue, and it makes her want to vomit. In this moment, she is truly _not_ her sister.

“What do you want?”

“What we want, not even the Earp heir can stop. It’s too late. You’ve lost. Now—” Waverly sits up straighter, and Peacemaker hisses again. “Stand down or we’ll kill her right now.”

Wynonna can barely breathe, and the hammer on Peacemaker eases up beneath her thumb and then withdraws from Waverly’s forehead completely as she rocks back on her heels, still squatting over her sister. Her sweet, innocent sister who doesn’t deserve this, who Wynonna has only ever tried to protect. There is a perfect circle marked on Waverly’s forehead, just between her eyes, and Wynonna is the one who put it there.

Ward. Willa. Now Waverly.

She wonders for the millionth time if killing revenants, if being stuck in this godforsaken hellhole isn’t her curse. She wonders if Peacemaker won’t stop until it’s forced her to murder every single person she’s ever cared about. She wonders if Waverly’s next.

Waverly sneers, her black eyes boring into Wynonna’s. “It’s not us who want to see you destroyed, Wynonna. Waverly is doing that all on her own.”

“You lie.”

Waverly barks out a harsh laugh. “Not when the truth is infinitely more fun. Think about it. We’re in complete control right now and lying here, as peaceful as a dove. It’s always been Waverly who’s directed our power at killing you.”

Peacemaker falls limply to Wynonna’s thigh.

When she raises her eyes to Waverly’s once more, there’s a determination there. “Baby girl. I know you can hear me. I won’t give up on you, even if you try to kill me a thousand different ways. Okay? There’s nothing you can do that will make me walk away again. I won’t leave you.” She slowly holsters Peacemaker and holds her hands up. “You can kill me right now if you want to. I won’t stop you. But, Waverly, you should know something first. The reason I’m here— it’s Nicole. Dolls says he got a call that... well, that she’s… she might be in a lot of trouble. If we don’t go help her… it’s the kind of trouble she might not come back from. You have to be stronger than this right now. Can you do that for me? For _her_?”

“Now who’s the one that’s lying?”

“I’m not. I would never lie to you about something like this.”

_Waverly?_

It’s like a bad connection, like a shaky phone call, but it’s not in her ear. It’s in her head. _Nicole_.

Nicole’s voice, as clear as day, but far away. Not quite an echo. Not quite real.

_Waverly, I’m scared. I’m in some kind of warehouse, I think, and the voices are… God, they’re so loud. I don’t know how you’ve been doing this. I want to stab something in my ear just to make them stop._

“It’s another trick,” Waverly says through gritted teeth.

“No, baby girl.”

_It’s so dark._

“Nicole?”

_I’m freezing._

And then there’s a snarl and something tearing, and all Waverly can hear are Nicole’s screams.

It seems like a lifetime before Waverly shakes her head softly, as if she’s trying to shake water out of her ears. Slowly, her eyes clear and come into focus and when she finally chokes back a sob and clutches at her sister, Wynonna’s arms are around her and her hand is cradling the back of Waverly’s head.

“They’ve got her,” Waverly cries. “They’re hurting her.”

“You can process on the way,” she says after a minute, pulling Waverly to her feet. “Right now, we have to move or it might be too late.”

Wynonna thinks she’s never seen Waverly get herself together so quickly in her life.

—

They take the Jeep.

Wherever they’re going, it’s not exactly on road, and the four wheel drive is coming in handy. They drive in tense silence, with Dolls occasionally giving orders from the back.

They drive until Waverly’s headlights fall on a familiar police cruiser and Waverly slams on the brakes alongside it, kicking up dirt and snow as they skid to a stop.

“What the hell is she doing all the way out here without backup?” Wynonna mutters before catching a glimpse of the shadow flooding into Waverly’s eyes. _This is not going to end well_ , is the only thought in her mind as she pulls herself out of the Jeep and into the darkness.

—

It’s not a warehouse, exactly. It’s more of an abandoned factory, Waverly thinks, but before she can wonder what the machines here ever made, her eyes are drawn a figure on the floor, still and unmoving. Dolls lights a flare, and Waverly instantly recognizes the tan pants with blue stripes down the sides. She rushes forward, and Wynonna grabs for her. “Wait! It could be—” but Waverly’s already crouching over Nicole’s body. “A trap.”

—

The instant Waverly’s fingers touch Nicole’s face, her entire world freezes. Something in her chest jerks forward, and it feels like her spirit is getting pushed out of her body and into a world of swirling black smoke. Everything is in shadow now, ever moving and swirling around her. She feels strong and in control and… cold.

_Hey there._

Nicole. She’s the only thing in color in Waverly’s whole world, a world woven together of blacks and grays, and she’s breathtaking. Nicole hovers in front of Waverly like a reflection in the water on a summer day, bathed in soft orange light. Her hair is redder than Waverly’s even seen it, her coat bluer, somehow.

Waverly is made of smoke, of death, but Nicole is solid light and warmth and everything good in the world.

“Nicole,” Waverly breathes, or tries to. No sound comes out of her mouth and she can feel confusion blossom on her face.

_Here._ Nicole touches her ghostly fingers to Waverly’s forehead, tracing over Peacemaker’s mark. _I can hear you._

_Nicole?_ She tries again, and Nicole visibly melts and smiles at her, dimples deepening.

“Waverly, stop!”

There’s something pulling at her, but it’s so far away, and Nicole is _right_ here.

_I haven’t heard from you all day,_ she thinks. _I was worried._

_I was taking care of you. I will always take care of you._

Her hair whips in a silent wind, one that Waverly cannot feel. Waverly thinks she’s never looked more gorgeous.

“Oh for fucks sake. Dolls, pull her back!”

Waverly’s brow creases. _What did we come out here to do? It was important._  

_It doesn’t matter. We’re together now. We can do anything._ Nicole is getting closer with every word, her eyes drifting down to Waverly’s lips. _We can be anything, together._ She ghosts her lips over Waverly’s, and Waverly’s eyes flutter closed. The orange light emanating from Nicole pours straight into her, flooding her, drowning her. It’s beyond any kiss they’ve ever shared.

It’s warm and safe, and every one of her senses is full of Nicole, and she feels light and delirious and a little like she might be flying. She wraps her hands around to cradle Nicole’s head, to pull her closer, and she can feel Nicole’s _Yes_ reverberate throughout her entire body.

“Waverly! You’ll kill her!”

Nicole twists her hands in Waverly’s shirt, pulling her closer.

“Goddamn it, help me get her off of her!”

There’s a sickening crack and a staggering pain at the base of Waverly’s neck, and her eyes roll back and she crashes back to the cold and the pain and the darkness, Nicole’s warmth slipping away like a dream barely remembered.

When she can focus again, her hands are still cradling Nicole’s head, copper hair splayed familiarly over her wrists, but Nicole’s eyes are wide and staring and so, _so_ black. Blood trickles out of her nose in a jagged line, a crack of bright red lightning splitting a pale cheek.

Someone is screaming, and Waverly thinks that it might be her.

“Waverly, let her go!”

“You have to stop her! Hit her again!”

“You’re killing her! Let her go!”

She’s crying and gripping tighter and watching as this living darkness consumes the person she loves from the inside out. She can see the darkness filling Nicole up, can feel it pouring out of her own fingers and into her girlfriend.

“Get out of her!” Waverly feels herself scream, something so fierce and primal that she expects the darkness within to shake and coil in fear. Instead, it _laughs_.

It laughs maniacally, and in Waverly’s own voice, and it chills her to the core.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” she shrieks.

_It’s far too late, Waverly. The Gate is open. The Key is destroyed. You cannot stop us now._


	4. Chase the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Nicole survive? Doc meets up with an old friend, Dolls has a plan, and the team finally gets some answers - and more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys liked this chapter, be sure to let me know! I had a lot of fun writing it. Special thanks to wanderson20's proofing - it's so much better because of you! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr as noxinamillionyears if you want to come say hi.

“Dolls, she’s not moving, and Nicole looks like she’s been left on the griddle too long.” To Waverly’s left, there’s a soft click as Wynonna eases the hammer back on Peacemaker. “I don’t want to shoot my sister to kill you, you sick fuck, but I will if I have to.” 

From the right, there’s a growl, like some kind of wild animal has gotten into the building, and before Waverly can even wonder what beast could possibly make such a sound, there are claws digging into her shoulders and teeth at her neck. 

The shadow within her flares, and Waverly sinks beneath the waves once again.

The eyes she finds herself looking into are bright gold, nearly glowing, with vertical pupils, and even this far away, locked inside her glass prison, they chill her to her core. 

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” Waverly hears her own voice bite out, distant and tinny. 

Instead of answering, Dolls leaps at her again and tears her off of Nicole’s body. She scrabbles across the floor, loose gravel and straw grinding beneath her palms and knees, and she thinks dimly that her black stretch pants might not make it through this encounter. She holds her position, staring down this thing that’s wearing Dolls’ face, crouched like some kind of feral feline. 

Wynonna levels Peacemaker at her and drops to one knee next to Nicole, groping for a pulse but never taking her eyes off of Waverly. 

“Waverly, there’s still a chance,” Wynonna implores. “Fight these assholes. You can still save her.” 

Waverly laughs again, black tendrils curling from her mouth and around her face as she flexes her knuckles against the wooden floorboards. 

“You’re still so ignorant, after everything. The Gate is open. Waverly is gone. She’s never coming back.” 

“Oh my god,” Wynonna says, realization dawning across her face. She stands slowly and takes a few steps forward. “The Gate isn’t a place.” She casts an alarmed look to Dolls, who is circling wide, trying to get into a flanking position. “It’s a person. It’s…” Her sister. Her baby sister, who never stopped believing in her or loving her. Who sees the best in everyone, in spite of the heartache she’s endured throughout her short life. Who has only ever been full of sunshine and hope, until she was full of something else, something dark and sinister and unwilling to let her go. “Waverly.” 

She isn’t sure if it’s a plea or a warning. 

“Then that means that the Key is…” Wynonna stares down at Nicole’s lifeless body. “Fuck.”

The thing inside of Waverly sneers, and Wynonna is back on her guard. 

“Waverly is dead.” 

And then there’s a blur, a wave of trailing shadow, and an acrid smell in the air like a too-close lightning strike, and Waverly is gone. 

Dolls snarls, and Wynonna blinks. “That thing is so fucking fast,” she mutters, and when she turns back to check on Nicole, there’s a crunch beneath her boot. She squints in the dark, and a glint catches the fading red sputter of Dolls’ flare where he dropped it. 

Gold. 

Wynonna stoops and comes up with a shiny brass trinket, a crumpled chunk of metal on a long chain, and she recognizes it instantly as a bullet. 

Waverly must have dropped it when Dolls attacked her. 

But why would her sister have a fired bullet on a chain? Unless it’s...

_ Oh. _

It feels a little movie of the week to cradle Nicole’s lolling head and clasp it around her neck, but Wynonna tells herself that it’s what her sister would have wanted. What she would do herself, if she were here, if she were  _ really _ here as Waverly and not as some soulless life-sucking fiend from where-the-hell-ever. 

The moment the metal touches the pale skin of Nicole’s chest, there’s a hiss. Wynonna watches wide-eyed as it begins to glow a faint blue, not unlike Peacemaker did when she first aimed it at Willa and then at Waverly. 

_ praesidio ei, praesidio ei, praesidio ei _

The blue glow grows stronger and stronger still, until it bursts in a shock of light, tendrils of airy blue cascading down Nicole’s chest and up around her neck, wrapping around her until there’s a soft blue hue pulsing around her entire body. 

_ praesidio ei, praesidio ei, praesidio ei  _

The wide, lifeless eyes stare up, full to brimming with an inky blackness, and Wynonna holds her breath as that blue glow crackles and seeps, splintering the blackness from within like drying, cracking paint. Nicole’s chest begins rising and falling softly once again, and her eyes blink slowly, closing on the blackness. When she opens them again, they’re full of tears, and life. 

“I feel so… cold.” 

Wynonna half laughs, half cries, and holds on to her until the faint blue glow fades completely, and when she finally lets her go, even Dolls looks relieved. 

—

Nicole spends the next day and night in the Black Badge office, scouring over Waverly’s notes and the briefing that Dolls forced Wynonna to type up. She’s still there the following morning, propped up by an elbow on the table, dark circles under her eyes, when Wynonna bangs the door open and tries to catch it with her boot. She’s got a box of donuts in one hand and a lidded cup of coffee in the other. 

“Dude, you look like shit.” 

Nicole is too tired to laugh. “Thanks.” 

“Have you even slept since we brought you back?” 

“A little. Right here in this very chair.” 

Wynonna drops the box on the table and flips the lid, sliding it toward Nicole, who shakes her head. Wynonna shrugs and claims one for herself. “Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but someone who’s been through what you have should probably rest and, you know, eat,” she says around a mouthful of powdered sugar. 

Nicole rubs her eyes. “I’ll rest once we find Waverly.” 

“You’re not going to do her any good if you drop dead. Again.” Nicole throws her a look, and she wonders briefly if maybe it’s too soon to make ‘hey, remember that time you died?’ jokes. 

Dolls clears his throat from the door. “She’s right, Agent Haught. You should get some rest.” 

Agent. 

It seems like ages ago that the thought of being  _ Agent Haught _ made her giddy. She’d worked so hard to become a good cop. All she’d ever wanted for her life was to help people, to make the world a little bit nicer to live in, and then when Dolls had squared up and given her a legitimate mission, calling her Agent Haught for the first time, she’d truly never been happier. 

And now she’s only been part of the Division for a handful of days, but it somehow feels like a lifetime. 

She knows Dolls is right. She’s no good to Waverly exhausted and weak. 

She sighs and pushes herself up. “She might not even still be in the Triangle, but that Thing wanted to get in so badly for  _ some _ reason, so I’m betting she’s still close.” She spins Waverly’s journal and pushes it across the table to Wynonna, tapping her finger against Waverly's notes. “I think she went to go find her father.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Wynonna says. “It said that Waverly was— that she’s not even—” Dolls gives her a sharp look that’s not lost on Nicole but apparently is on Wynonna. “They said she was dead.”

“I don’t care what it told you.” Nicole slings her bag over her shoulder, wincing when it thumps against her bruised back. “We can still save her. We  _ will _ .” 

“I hope you’re right, Agent Haught, but if you ever go off again without backup, you will turn in your badge, and I will have a very direct conversation with Sheriff Nedley about how one of his officers operates in the field. Consider this your warning.” 

Nicole’s mouth hangs open for a second before she can gather herself. “I know I haven’t turned in my report on the events of that evening,” she says slowly, still gathering her thoughts, “but I promise that I did everything by the book. I swear I called this in.”

“I received no such call,” Dolls says, propping back in his chair and looking at Wynonna expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “I was with you the whole time.” 

“But I  _ spoke _ to you, Deputy Marshall. I told you about the spec ops that I saw in the area and that some of them had black eyes. Black eyes like—” Nicole shakes her head. This is unbelievable. “I told Nedley, and he said to take my car and see if I could find out where they were going but not to engage. I reported to you, and you said you and Wynonna were on your way. That you’d meet me there.”

He nods. “After you were already incapacitated in the building.” 

“No… from my car. I gave you directions.” 

Wynonna sets her coffee cup on the table. “Waverly said she saw you,” she says slowly. “That they had you and were hurting you. Before we got there.”

Nicole tries to remember, tries to put herself back there, on that filthy floor, in the cold. In the dark. She closes her eyes, and remembers. 

“No,” she finally says. “I called Deputy Marshall Dolls and gave him the location, and he said your ETA was two minutes out. I followed a man in spec ops gear into the building. He had black eyes and an insignia on his chest. Three lines and a half circle.” 

Dolls and Wynonna exchange a look. “That’s the insignia of the facility where they held me,” Dolls says. 

“When I got inside, it was empty. But I… was stuck. Couldn’t move. Something hit me, and I fell. Next thing I know. Wynonna’s holding me up and everyone looks like someone died.” She winces. “I guess that was me.”

“Agent Haught, the call you placed happened once you were already stuck inside the factory, before you blacked out. You called and said you were frozen in place, that your feet were somehow stuck to the floor. I tracked your phone. We were nowhere near the vicinity.” 

“This is… Am I insane?” Nicole mutters. 

“I think it’s more likely that someone or something is altering our perception of reality. Causing hallucinations. Waverly clearly never spoke to you. You were never in any pain. You didn’t call and tell us where you were going until after you were there.”

Unbelievable. “They set it up.”

“Who set what up?” Wynonna asks. 

“The assholes that have set up shop inside your sister. They wanted her to get to me, to make her kill me, and they knew she’d never do it willingly. They tricked her.”

“Shit,” Wynonna mumbles, and Dolls clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“We’ll take all of this under advisement, but it’s in everyone’s best interest for you to try and get some rest, Agent Haught.”

Suddenly, Nicole is very aware of just how exhausted she is. “Call me if you find her,” she says, and closes the door to the office behind her. 

The entire time she drives home, she wonders how in the hell they’re going to save Waverly, in spite of everything.

There  _ has _ to be a way.

—

When Nicole finally wakes up, her sleep hard and dreamless, and pulls herself from an empty bed that still smells like Waverly, she knows what she has to do. She takes her time getting ready, going over her mental morning checklist like she does every day. Waverly being in danger makes her want all the more to make sure that things don’t go overlooked. The time she starts getting careless is the time Waverly can no longer count on her, and she’ll be damned if she lets that happen. Plus, there’s a comfort in her routine, if she’s honest with herself. Pouring herself a cup of coffee before heading out the door returns a small amount of control in a situation that’s largely robbed her of it.  

When she gets to the office, she checks in with Nedley first, and when it’s clear that there isn’t anything pressing for her to attend to for the morning, she heads across the hall to the BBO. It’s empty, and she fishes her phone out of her coat pocket and finds Doc’s number. 

When he answers sleepily,  _ or drunk, _ Nicole thinks, she says, “I need your help.”

“Not that I am not beyond delighted to hear your voice, Miss Haught, but it’s early.”

“It’s 8:30,” Nicole says, laughing. She’s always liked Doc. He doesn’t skirt the issues. Talks to her like an equal. Doesn’t force her to work harder to prove that she’s an officer or a colleague just because she’s young or a woman. He respects her, and she knows he’d do anything for Waverly. 

There’s a rustle on the other end of the line, and Doc groans. “Case in point. What is it that you need?” 

“Wynonna gave a me a briefing on everything that’s happened since she got back to Purgatory.” 

“And… what has that got to do with me?” 

Nicole takes a deep breath. Best to just jump right in, like you’re learning to swim. “I need you to take me to see the stone witch.” 

For a minute, Nicole isn’t sure if Doc is still on the line. And then he says, “Why on earth would you want to see that devil woman, Officer Haught? Nothing good could ever come from exposing yourself to that tongue of hers.” 

Nicole chuckles. “I’ll risk it.” She wonders if Doc ever actually listens to the words that come out of his own mouth. 

—

Nicole follows protocol. She sends a text to both Dolls and Wynonna, along with their target location, and makes sure that her location tracking is enabled on her phone. 

She waits for the green light from Dolls before picking up Doc at Shorty’s. Turns out, someone  _ is _ running it—a nobody Revenant who stepped up in Bobo’s place—and that’s where Doc’s been spending most of his time now that he’s not shadowing Waverly to make sure she doesn’t murder anyone. 

On the way out to the salt flats, it’s a comfortable silence, and Nicole is reminded again how much she likes Doc. She’s still trying to get her head around being friends with the actual, honest-to-god Doc Holliday, but then, this is hardly the strangest thing that’s happened to her in the past month. 

She knows they’re nearly there, and she finally brings herself to speak the words that have been in her brain since Doc stumbled into her police cruiser, stinking of whiskey and sweat. “Thank you. For keeping her from doing anything she’d regret, I mean.” Doc softens for just a moment and tips his hat.

“Oh, I imagine Waverly’ll have plenty of things to dwell on once this is over, but letting down the ones you love is a tough thing to shake. I’ve done my best to keep her from it.” 

“Do you really think we can get her back?” Nicole tries so hard to keep her voice even, but she figures Doc can hear the hope that ratchets it up a note. 

“I don’t expect you know my history with the witch, but I assure you, I would not be bringing you out here if I didn’t.” After a beat, he adds, “Don’t make her any promises, not even if you think it will help save Waverly. That woman is not to be trusted, and Waverly is much better off without any meddling from the likes of Constance Clootie. We are interrogating her for information only.” 

“Do you really think it will go that smoothly?”

Doc throws her a look, and indicates for her to pull over. “Indeed I do not, Miss Haught.” Nicole draws the cruiser to a stop, and Doc mumbles under his breath as he steps out of the car, “Indeed I do not.”

—

Constance Clootie looks like she’s had better days. Her skin is cracked and dry, her lips bleeding. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is windblown. 

“I don’t suppose this is a rescue, officer?” Constance bats her eyes up at Nicole.

Even with the witch buried to her neck in the salty earth, Nicole doesn’t dare step within three feet of her, and stands strong with her thumbs tucked into her belt. Leaving a helpless woman stranded like this goes against everything she’s ever believed in her life, and it’s all she can do to keep herself from finding a shovel and digging until her hands bleed. But then, Constance Clootie has never exactly been helpless, if Wynonna’s briefing could be believed. This woman was the devil made flesh, and Nicole tries to remind herself of that fact. 

“I’m afraid it’s out of my hands.” Nicole tries to choose her words carefully, but Constance isn’t listening. She’s got her eyes on Doc. 

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” she tells him, earning a roll of his eyes. 

He slouches against the hood of Nicole’s cruiser and nods his hat toward Nicole in a clear indication that he’s not speaking. 

The witch doesn’t seem to care. “I know we’ve had our differences, Doc, but I promise you I’ve done some thinking and I swear to be good if you let me out.” 

“We can talk about moving you someplace more comfortable,” Nicole says carefully. “But first we need something from you.” 

She tilts her head at Nicole, grins maniacally. 

“You can’t get her back.” 

It’s like a slap to the face, and Nicole tries to get her breath. “Um,” she says, and the stone witch laughs. 

“You’re sleeping with her, right?” Constance makes a tsking sound. “Well, not so much lately, I think, but then, who can blame you? Oh honey, don’t look so scandalized. She’s all over you. It’s positively nauseating. Though, I think,” her gaze falls to the necklace around Nicole’s neck, “you two don’t have quite as much in common as you once did.” 

Nicole grits her teeth. “What do you know about it?” 

The stone witch laughs again. 

“Oh,  _ baby _ ,” she says, drawing it out in a cracked breath. It’s familiar enough that Nicole winces. “I know more about what happens in the Triangle than practically anyone. It’s what I  _ do _ . Tell me, where on earth did you get that hideous piece of jewelry? I haven’t seen anything like it in quite some time.”

Subconsciously, Nicole brings her fingers up to touch the metal laying against her chest. “We just want to find her,” she mumbles. 

“And  _ I _ just want to be out of the endless agony of this place.” 

Doc finally speaks up. “We both know that this is your final resting place, you heartless fiend.”

Constance looks positively delighted. “And you above anyone should know exactly how final those actually are.” Back to Nicole. “Please. Bobo’s taken everything from me. I’ll never get my boys back. Isn’t that enough eternal agony for one person to bear?” 

“I’m sorry you lost them,” Nicole says. “But there’s nothing I can do about that. If you’re really as repentant as you claim to be, help me find her before it’s too late.” 

Constance’s smile is sickeningly sweet. “You have a choice to make, my dear. You can get me out of this wasteland and into something more comfortable and I can help you find her.  _ Or _ you can leave me here and let her die.” 

“How do we even know for sure that you know where she is?” 

“Have I not done an exemplary job of showcasing just how much I still know, even being stuck here in this fucking salt pit? If that’s not good enough, I guess you’ll just have to trust me. Or, I could tell you about the magic that’s currently walking you around.” 

Nicole blinks. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m sorry, do you think that you’re perfectly healthy, standing there with all that swagger and bravado? I know you’re scared shitless, and I don’t blame you. You should be lying in a heap on the ground. The only thing that’s enabling you to stand there and be condescending comes from that bit of brass around your neck. Oh my, do you really not know?” Constance laughs, throwing her head back. “You’re the literal walking dead, officer. I couldn’t have done a better job myself, though I haven’t seen craftsmanship like  _ that _ since… well, in a very long time. Tell me, who made it for you?”  

Nicole grips her belt. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Constance murmurs. “Well, I’d be willing to bet that your dear sweet Waverly Earp was the one behind that bit of enchantment, and I have to say, she’s every bit as talented as her mother.” 

“You knew her mother?” 

Another laugh. “Of course I knew her. There were four of us, you know. A very small coven. One of stone, one of water, one of iron, and one of... “ Constance’s grin is almost feral. “Salt.” She rolls her head back, looking straight up at the sky. “It’s actually kind of ironic. Here I am, imprisoned in salt, and the one thing that burns others of our kind was like life to her. It’s what’s holding you up while it’s holding me down.” 

Nicole looks at Doc. “Waverly’s mother was…” 

“The salt witch, yes.” Constance continues. “And my sister, once. Anyway, my offer still stands. Get me out of this relentless hellscape and I will tell you anything you’d like to know.” 

“We will find her, with or without you.”

Nicole feels like she’s being looked through. “Even if you do find her, what makes you think that she’ll come back to you?”

“You’ve clearly never loved anyone before. Really, truly loved someone.” 

Constance barks out another harsh laugh. “And you think that’s enough?  _ Your _ love for her will save her? God, you really are simple, aren’t you? I thought that the whole southern lilt thing was just an act, but my god, this is just too good. I hope you do find her. In fact, I  _ want _ you to. I mean, before he kills her.” 

“The Old One?” Nicole asks sharply. 

“Oh my, no. They’re the only thing that can save her from him.” 

“From who?” Doc finally asks. 

“You two really deserve each other, you know that?” Constance says. “From her father. He’s definitely going to kill her. Honestly, it’s a miracle that you simpletons managed to imprison me in the first place.” 

—

Doc doesn’t say much on the way back into town, and Nicole is happy to drive in silence. 

“The, uh, saloon, if you don’t mind,” Doc says when Nicole drives past Shorty’s. 

“Uh-uh. Wallowing time is over. We need all hands on deck. She needs you.” 

Maybe Doc really would do anything for Waverly or maybe he just knows that it’s useless to argue with Nicole. Whatever the case, he slouches down in the passenger seat and doesn’t put up a fight. 

—

When they get to the Black Badge Office, the first thing Nicole notices is the boxes. The second thing she notices is that Waverly’s books are not where she left them on the table. She needs those books if she’s going to have any chance of figuring out who Waverly’s father was or where Waverly might be going. Even with Waverly’s research, Nicole knows it’s a longshot and might takes her days, if not weeks, to put it all together, if she even can. 

“What’s going on?” She feels like she’s speaking in slow motion. Dolls trudges past her with two very heavy looking boxes. 

Doc makes an exaggerated show of stepping out of the way. “It looks as though you’re feeling back up to snuff, Dolls. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it,” he says, and Dolls just shoulders past him. 

Wynonna’s sitting at the table with her feet propped up, polishing Peacemaker. 

“Dolls’ panties are in a twist because he thinks Lucado is coming to arrest him. Again.” 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Dolls says, returning for more boxes. “She knows we’re here. She could be here already, watching us. Could you two make yourselves useful? God knows Wynonna’s not.” 

“Aw, Dolls. Since when do you believe in god?” 

“Wynonna, how can you be so flippant right now?” Nicole finally finds her voice again, and there’s a fire in Wynonna’s eyes, so quick that Nicole nearly misses it. 

She thunks her boots on the floor and stands up, twirling Peacemaker around a finger. “Do you mean because what we’re doing here is technically illegal since Dolls is a traitor and by breaking him out, I’m wanted by the law —  _ again _ , or do you mean because we don’t have anywhere else to go or any means of hiding ourselves if we did, or do you mean because my baby sister has been hijacked by some godawful freaking thing and we have no idea where she is or how to save her?” Wynonna’s tone is sugary sweet, and when she bats her eyelashes, Nicole has to remind herself that she’s not the enemy. 

“Yes,” Nicole says through her teeth. 

“Well, then, take your pick, officer. There are plenty of reasons to panic right about now, aren’t there? But, see, here’s the thing.” She leans into Nicole’s space. “I don’t really do  _ panic _ very well.” 

Nicole smells Wynonna’s breath and arches an eyebrow. “Why do panic when you can do drunk?” 

“Are you kidding me? You wanna maybe climb down off my dick for two seconds, Nicole?” 

“Ladies, please—” Doc starts, but Dolls gives him a slight shake of his head and nods toward a box. Doc grabs one and follows Dolls out. 

“When was the last time you  _ were _ sober, Wynonna?” 

“I can’t believe we’re going to have this conversation all over again. You’re not my goddamn  _ mother _ .”

“Maybe if you actually took care of yourself for half a minute, I wouldn’t have to step in and beg you to keep your shit together for Waverly’s sake. Don’t you think she deserves better than this? And don't you dare tell me it's not my place. I know she’s your family, but I love her too.” 

The next words Wynonna has loaded dissipate and her mouth hangs open. “Wait. You do?” 

“Are you serious? Wynonna, nobody on the planet could possibly be that fucking clueless, and oh my god, I know what we need to do.” 

“You do?” 

“Your mother, what was her name?” 

“Um. Wendy Rossie, but I don’t get what that has to do with—” 

“We have no idea who Waverly’s real father was, but we  _ do _ know her mother’s name.  _ Your _ mother’s name. We have to find her. The salt witch. She’s the only one who can help us find Waverly.”  

“My mother’s a what now?” Wynonna says, but Nicole’s already out the door. 


	5. Burn the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly gets a message to Nicole. Nicole and Dolls pay a visit to the salt witch. Nicole gets a message to Waverly. 
> 
> Some more questions get answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change. Things get steamy, but nothing super explicit. If that's not your thing, you're fine to read until Nicole drinks a certain concoction, and then you may want to skip the rest. There's a bit of exposition in the first two thirds that you won't want to miss. 
> 
> As always, thanks to wanderson20 for being the best beta ever and for saving me from being really stupid. :D
> 
> Come holler at me on tumblr - noxinamillionyears

It takes longer to find Waverly’s mother than it would have if Dolls still had full access to Black Badge resources and wasn’t in hiding. Nicole spends a lot of that time cleaning out the abandoned factory where they’d last seen Waverly, helping Dolls outfit it to be their new base of operations. Even without his Black Badge connections, he’s a resourceful man, and Nicole learns how to set up a solar grid and fiber optic network. Even so, by the end of the week, she feels like she’s about to go crazy.

Wynonna brings them donuts and coffee and props her boots on Dolls’ desk and asks, “Any news?” around a mouthful of sprinkles.

Nicole keeps her mind on the cables she’s hooking up and doesn’t look up. Dolls says, “We’re still waiting on word from one of my contacts in the city, but it’s a promising lead.”

Wynonna notices the cots and pile of blankets in the corner. “I know Dolls doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now, but, Jesus, Nicole, don’t you ever go home?”

Nicole just shrugs and keeps working.

“Hey. I’m worried about her too. But you’ve gotta go home at some point, right?”

Nicole sighs.

“It’s been over a week, Wynonna. Waverly’s been missing for over a week, and we’re not any closer to helping her.” Her voice cracks. She can’t remember ever being so exhausted.

“She’s strong,” Dolls tells her. “She’s fighting it. She won’t give up.”

Nicole hopes to God he’s right.

—

Later that night, her phone rings, and she fumbles for it, trying not to wake Dolls, who’s snoring softly on the other cot.

“Waverly?”

Every time her phone has rung over the past eight days, Nicole has answered it the same way, and every time she’s been disappointed. It’s always been Nedley or her mother or her brother, calling to see if they’d found her yet.

This time, it seems there’s no one there, but Nicole doesn’t hang up.

“Waverly?” She tries again, as softly as she can, like she’s trying not to spook a wild animal.

There’s the softest flutter of breath on the other end, and Nicole’s heart catches in her throat. It’s all she can do not to burst into tears with relief.

“Are you hurt? Where are you? Please, god, tell me you’re okay.” The words come pouring out of Nicole as she swings her legs over the side of the cot and sits up. She clicks a light on and makes eye contact with Dolls. “We’ll come get you. Just tell me where you are.”

“Nicole? I had to know you were okay. I thought I kill— killed—” Waverly cuts off in a strangled sob.

“No, baby,” Nicole shushes her. “I’m fine. I promise. Can you tell me where you are? What can you see?” Dolls looks alarmed, shakes his head, but Nicole presses on. “Can you hear anything? Just give me _something_ , Wave, and I will burn the world down before I let them hurt you.”

“Um… I’m in a cabin, I think. There’s woods all around.”

“Are you alone?”

Waverly laughs weakly. “I’m never alone.”

Nicole winces. “Right. I’m sorry.”

“There’s a stone chimney, big heavy stones. And a mailbox. Bright red.” Waverly’s breathing is heavy, labored. She sounds like she might collapse at any moment. “There’s a lot of blood.”

“What?” Nicole asks, a little too sharply. “Is it yours?”

Waverly gives another little sob. “I don't know. I think— I think I killed him too.”

“No,” Nicole says firmly. “You didn’t kill anyone. Even if someone died, it’s not— It wasn’t _you_. Try and stay there, okay? We’ll find you.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I’m so _tired_ , Nicole,” Waverly whispers, and Nicole’s heart breaks.

“I know, baby. You’re doing great. Just hold on a little longer.”

“Nicole, whatever happens, I need to say something right now. No matter what I do or say in the future, or if they kill me or keep me away from you forever, I just need you to know how much I lo—”

Waverly’s voice cuts off mid-word, and Nicole checks her screen to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. It hasn’t.

“Wave?” Nothing. “Waverly?”

“Well. If it isn’t _Nicole Haught_.” Waverly’s voice is ice in Nicole’s ears. “Still alive? It doesn’t matter. You’re too late. And if you come looking for us, we’ll kill you all over again and Waverly will have _two_ memories of murdering you in cold blood to cherish for the rest of her life. However long that m—”

Nicole hangs up.

Hearing those words in Waverly’s voice makes her feel sick.

“It’s still got her?” How is it that Dolls always seems to know?

“Oh yeah. Big time.”

She tells him about the cabin, and they set to work with Dolls’ global imaging software to see if they can find something — anything — that matches that description in the Triangle.

—

It’s another few hours before Dolls gets an encrypted text. When he reads it, he shoots Nicole a look, and she knows that it’s his contact with news of Waverly’s mother.

“She’s still alive,” he says. “In the city, north of the line.”

“She didn’t go far.”

“I guess not.”

“We have to go, now,” Nicole says, but Dolls is already grabbing his coat.

—

The address they’re given leads them to a small bungalow style house, painted blue, with stone columns on the porch, windchimes and stained glass ornaments hanging everywhere.

 _It’s cute_ , Nicole thinks. She could see Waverly and her settling down in a place like this someday. Maybe have a few kids, get a dog. Invite Wynonna and Doc and Dolls over for weekend cookouts. Have her mom and brother up for holidays. They could be a family.

She lets Dolls take point and flanks him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door.

When there’s no answer, he nods his head toward the side of the house. Nicole checks her weapon.

She follows him through the yard, her hand on her pistol, just in case.

There’s a wooden privacy fence, and when Dolls pushes it, the gate swings open easily. The backyard is spacious and light. There are more chimes and ornaments hanging back here. A woman with long dark hair kneels over a flower bed, her back to them, her long flannel shirt hanging down to the ground. She leans back on her heels and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Took you long enough,” she says without turning around.

“Excuse me?” Nicole asks.

“To find me. I thought you’d be here days ago. I’m not exactly hiding.”

“Uh…” Dolls says. “We got a call that there might be suspicious activity in the area and when you didn’t answer the door, we wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The woman laughs. “Bullshit. I haven’t seen her, you know. Not since she was a baby. She was so sweet, always sitting on my lap, drawing pictures of us with her crayons. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, leaving them.”

Nicole’s breath catches and she holds it, and finally the woman stands and turns to face them, dead weeds she's been clearing from the flower beds in her hand. It’s a harsh face. Beautiful. Not unkind, but hard, like the world had taken its toll long ago. Nicole tries to see any trace of Waverly, but there’s no sunshine, no softness. It’s like looking into the face of a storm.

Shrewd eyes fall on Nicole and narrow, but Nicole stands her ground, calmly meeting the woman’s gaze, raising an eyebrow almost in challenge. She can feel Dolls shifting next to her, and she wonders again how he seems to pick up on everything so effortlessly.

“You’re Wendy Rossie?”

“I am. For a while, I thought it’d be Waverly standing in my garden today. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see her. But then… Well, let’s just say that eventually I knew it wouldn’t be her that would be here today.” She squints against the sun. “You’re close with her. Nearly indistinguishable in a vision.”

Nicole purses her lips.

“You’re the salt witch?” Dolls asks, and she laughs.

“You just cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

“Every minute we waste, we risk losing her forever,” Nicole says. It sounds melodramatic, she knows, but the salt witch doesn’t seem phased.

“She does seem to be mixed up in some terrible things.”

“Do you know how we can help her?” Dolls asks.

Wendy’s face softens slightly, and there’s a twinkle in the eye of the storm when she says, “I have some ideas. Come with me.”

Nicole and Dolls follow her up the back steps and into the house, and she sits them at a small table in the kitchen. The room is cluttered, almost overwhelmingly so, but by the way Wendy navigates it as she makes them tea, Nicole gets the impression that it’s a calculated mess.

“I don’t know how she got Legion’s attention, but now that she has it, we’re pretty limited in what we can do.”

“Legion?” Dolls’ tone is sharp.

“Legion. An ancient deity, known for it’s, uh, population. There’s a lot of them, working as one. It’s how it’s always been.”

Nicole swallows thickly. “Are you saying that Waverly is possessed by— by a _god_?”

“Possession makes it sound too nice,” Wendy says, sprinkling something into a small stone mortar. She leans against the counter, grinding the concoction with a mismatched pestle. “I’m saying that right now Waverly is a passenger in her own body, and the longer Legion is driving, the harder it will be for her to hold onto herself. They’ll crowd her out. She’ll wither and die, maybe get absorbed into them, if she hasn’t been already. Once she’s gone, Legion will be unstoppable.”

“She’s still holding on,” Nicole says. 

“I hope so.”

“No, I mean. I spoke to her. To Waverly, not to Legion. She’s still fighting it. Them. Whatever.”

“You spoke to her? When?”

“A few hours ago.”

Wendy hums, and finishes grinding the mixture, pouring it into a small white pouch. The water boils, and the witch pours it into mugs. She doesn’t speak again until she sets them down in front of Nicole and Dolls. “This is just tea,” she says, but then drops the small bag next to Nicole’s mug. “Once you’re back in the Triangle, you can make another with this. Don’t drink it unless you’re willing to do _anything_ to help her.”

“What will happen to me?”

“Well, technically speaking, it will kill you.” She laughs, and it’s the most unnerving thing Nicole has ever experienced in her life. “I have a strong feeling that you’re the only person that should drink it. You carry some of the strongest protection magic I’ve ever seen, but this could potentially hurt you— both of you.”

“But there’s a chance it could save her?”

“A small chance, yes.”

“Is there any other way we can help her?” Dolls asks.

“Not this quickly, not to find her,” the salt witch says. “But you have to be on the same side of the line as the person you’re trying to find. It won’t work with you here and her there.”

“Come back with us,” Nicole says. “We have a safe place—”

“No.”

Nicole is confused. “But she’s your daughter. She needs you.”

“Listen, I get that you care about Waverly, and I’m glad that she’s not alone in this. But I can’t cross back into the Triangle. I _can’t_. Do you get that? I didn’t want to leave. I had to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was to protect her? To protect all of them? I knew the deal my husband was thinking of making with Bobo. I knew what would happen to all of us if he went through with it. I made my own deal, with something far more powerful than Bobo del Ray, long before Ward had a chance to doom us all. I gave them up to save them.”

“And what about Legion? How do they figure into this?” Dolls asks.

“Legion gets their strength from magic. They feed on it, consume it, and turn it into energy. That’s a simplified explanation, but you get it. By sealing them out of the Triangle, we severely weakened them.”  
  
“We?”

“My sisters and I. We made it so that they couldn’t cross the barrier. Now that they’ve been let in, they’re gorging themselves. Feasting after twenty years of famine.”

“Your sisters?” Dolls asks.

“There were four of us. Only two of us remain. A small coven, but inseparable, deeply bonded by magic.”

“The stone witch.”

“She’s had better days,” Wendy laughs. “What? She deserves every second of the horror she’s enduring.”

“And why did Legion choose Waverly?” Nicole asks.

“Who can say _why_ a god does what it does? But my guess is that Waverly’s perfect for them. They need someone strong enough to withstand their presence. A human would just be torn to shreds under the strain. Besides, she’s Wynonna’s sister. If they could feed on something as powerful as the heir, it would sustain them for years, maybe decades.”

“Proximity to the source,” Dolls says, and the salt witch hums.

“Wait. Are you saying that Waverly’s not human?”

“She’s half me and half… something else,” Wendy says wistfully. “She’s powerful. Probably more powerful than even she knows. It’s the only reason she’s been able to last this long against them.”

“What’s her other half?” Nicole asks in a thick voice.

Wendy smiles. “Come on, officer. Can’t you guess? Never leaving Purgatory, taking all of those classes online? Working at that podunk bar when she’s always been so smart? She could have been anything she wanted. She never once went to look for her sister when Wynonna left, even though it broke her heart. Haven’t you figured why that is? _She can’t cross the line_.”

“I don’t understand. What does leaving the Ghost River Triangle have to do with demons?”

“Revenants,” Dolls corrects her, though he seems so far away. “They can’t cross without severe pain and disfigurement. The homestead, too. It’s part of Wyatt’s curse.”

"The protection at the homestead was my doing, thank you," Wendy says.

This can’t be true. It _can’t_ be.

Nicole grips the edge of the table.

“Does it change the way you feel for her, knowing what she is?” Wendy drawls. “I’ve been there, you know. Had to take a long, hard look at myself when I fell in love with her father. I mean, what sort of person in their right mind would willingly love a demon?”

Nicole’s breathing is shallow. The room is spinning. Her palm stings where Jack sliced it, a fresh wound even though it’s been healed for months. She pushes it up in front of her face to stop his blade, and she remembers. Oh _god_ , she remembers. Those haunting eyes, staring down at her while he crushed her into the dirt. The sickly sweet smell of rancid fruit. The rough breath on her face, and Wynonna’s screams as he dragged her away, thrashing in his arms.

She can see Waverly at the homestead, hair whipping around her face, her eyes hollow and empty and black. And she turns and stares at Nicole, the blackness burns from within until Waverly’s face twists into something else, snarling and harsh, with hell itself looking out of her.

She can feel herself on the ground again, crushed beneath Jack’s boot, but it isn’t Jack anymore, sneering down at her with eyes like hellfire.

It’s Waverly.

And Nicole feels like _she’s_ the one who’s going to be sucked into hell.

“But— she can cross the line— to the homestead,” she gasps, nearly doubled over. This must be what a panic attack feels like. “She _can’t_ be a revenant.”

“She’s half Rossie, dear. A witch, through and through. I suspect the rules are different for her. Though, it’s difficult to say. No one else is quite like her.”

She can’t suck air into her lungs quickly enough. She’s going to suffocate.

“Agent Haught, are you okay?” Dolls stands up so fast, he knocks his chair over. “What was in this tea?”

“Nothing, I swear. It’s just tea.”

“Do you have a paper bag?”

Wendy rummages in a drawer and hands him one, and he wraps it around Nicole’s mouth. “Breathe, Haught,” he commands, breathing with her, forcing her to slow down.

It takes a few minutes, but Nicole is eventually able to steady herself. Dolls pulls the bag away. She still feels dizzy, but at least she’s getting enough oxygen.

“Well, you did better with it than I did when I first found out about Billy,” Wendy says once Nicole’s gotten her breath, sipping her tea, and Dolls just stares at her with his hand still on Nicole’s back.

—

They spend another hour with the salt witch, asking her questions about what life was like on the homestead before she left. Nicole finishes another cup of tea and is grateful to Dolls for driving most of the conversation and letting her quietly recover.

When it’s time to finally head back, Wendy sees them to the door, and Nicole has no idea what possesses her, but she pulls Wendy into a tight hug.

“I will move heaven and earth to make it safe for you to come and visit her,” she promises, and Wendy clutches at her for just a moment like she’s drowning and Nicole is the only person who can save her.

She pulls back and holds Nicole by the shoulders, and Nicole looks into the storm once more. “My daughter is very lucky to have someone like you fighting for her,” she finally says, and Nicole blushes.

“She’d do the same for me.”

“Oh, I don’t have a single doubt about that.”

—

By the time they get back to their new base of operations, it’s nearly dark, thanks to Dolls doubling back several times to make sure they’re not being followed.

Wynonna and Doc are there, and both of them look genuinely happy to see them.

“Thanks for sneaking off without a word,” Wynonna tells Dolls as he shrugs his tactical bag onto the floor. “A text would’ve been nice. Hell, I would have been happy with a cryptic graffiti message.”

“You forget that you’re not my boss,” Dolls says, but it’s a light tone. He checks the program running on his computer, and of the four cabins that have pulled up in a match, none of them have a red mailbox outside. “It doesn’t matter. We have a lead.”

Wynonna narrows her eyes. “What kind of lead?”

“Nicole’s going to take some kind of unidentified substance that a witch gave her.”

Lamely, Nicole holds up the little bag that the salt witch made.

“Do you hear yourself, Dolls?” Doc tips back in his chair. “Nothing good has ever come from trusting a witch.”

“I’ve gotta agree with Doc on this,” Wynonna says. “How do we know if whatever’s in that bag won’t kill her?”

Nicole and Doc exchange a look.

“We don’t,” Dolls says. “It’s ultimately Agent Haught’s choice, but we’re running out of options.”

Nicole just sets her jaw and starts to boil some water on Dolls’ campstove.

“Are we really going to let her do this?” Wynonna asks.

“I don’t need your permission, Wynonna.”

There’s a tense silence while Nicole makes the tea, following the salt witch’s instructions to the letter, and then when it’s ready, she braces herself on the edge of her cot and takes a sip.

It scalds her tongue, and she feels a warmth she hasn’t felt in a week spreading through her body. It’s enough to make her realize just how cold she’s truly felt since that night that Waverly had crouched over her, dark tendrils drawing the warmth from her body.

Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls watch her tip the mug back and drain it.

It’s more of a broth than a tea, really, Nicole thinks. It’s so _salty_. And thicker than she’d thought it would be. And a little fishy. The warmth flowing through her is amazing.

Before the taste fully leaves her mouth, her entire body locks up, and she tilts back as an excruciating pain tears through her body. She’s on her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment as the others crowd around her and then she sees nothing, because there’s nothing left to see.

—

Even by Purgatory standards, this is _weird_.

She’s still Nicole Haught, she knows she is, but she’s also… something else. Something bigger.

She’s looking down, through the sky, through the trees, through the roof of the old factory, and she’s watching her friends stand over her body. She’s not moving, not breathing, and it looks to her, even from here, that she’s truly dead.

But the bullet glows blue and her chest rises and falls, and Wynonna finally stops wringing her hands together.

And then there’s this... pull.

It feels like there are invisible hands tugging at her incorporeal lapel, urging her forward, and she stumbles and then realizes that her feet are not on this earth. It helps, and she moves more quickly.

And she knows exactly where she’s going.

It’s like she’s a compass, and Waverly Earp is her magnetic north.

It’s exhilarating.

She feels like she’s aware of everything, all at once. The bustle at Shorty’s, Nedley in his office working late, the stone witch out in the salt flats, buried to her neck. The spec ops agent with the black eyes that she’d followed earlier, along with a dozen others, moving through the woods like shells of people, swarming the old factory. The soldiers are dead, filled up with living shadow. They’re walking marionettes, and Nicole can see the strings.

She gives a jolt, but can’t change her direction, and there’s panic that her friends are about to be ambushed while she lays helplessly by.

And then there’s the night and the stars and the trees of the Triangle until suddenly, there’s a red mailbox in the snow, and a stone chimney with large round stones. Nicole doesn’t know how, but she is _here_ and so is Waverly, sitting alone in the corner in the dark, rocking slowly in a wooden rocking chair, blood soaked through the sleeve of her shirt. Nicole careens toward her, a car without brakes.

She’s not going to be able to stop.

Waverly gasps and looks up, her shadow flooded eyes searching the darkness in vain, and then Nicole collides with her, and the chair tips back and they fall together, Nicole’s incorporeal arms wrapped protectively around Waverly’s shoulders.

They land in the dark.

To Nicole, it seems like space. There’s nothing here. No chair, no cabin, only Nicole and Waverly, who is somehow beautifully illuminated in spite of the shadows that surround them.

Nicole is relieved to see that she looks very much like herself. No trace of darkness in her eyes.

“Waverly," Nicole breathes. "I told you I’d find you. Are you okay?” It feels like years since they’ve seen one another, though it’s only been days.

Waverly doesn’t answer with words, but she’s crying and kissing Nicole and holding on to her like it would kill her to let go.

“God, are you a sight for sore eyes,” Nicole tells her, returning Waverly’s kiss. She pulls back, her brow furrowed, holding Waverly by the shoulders to keep her from following. “Why does my voice sound so muffled?”

Waverly reaches out a hand and raps her knuckles against the glass, and Nicole realizes that they’re standing in a glass box.

“I’ve been in here for days,” Waverly says. “I used to be able to get out, but it’s… getting more difficult. I’m exhausted.”

Nicole traces Waverly’s jaw with her thumb. “You called me.”

“That was the last time I was free.”

It slowly dawns on Nicole. “This is where they trapped you. We’re in your mind.”

“I can see and hear everything that happens when I’m in here, but it’s so far away. That day that I choked you…”

“You were here.” Nicole strokes her hair, and Waverly nods. “Were you here the night that you… um. In the factory?”

Waverly swallows thickly. “Nicole, I would have stopped myself if I could have. I didn’t realize it was hurting you. Please believe me.”

Another kiss, soft, gentle. A world of forgiveness for Waverly Earp. Nicole would give her more if she had it to give.

“Hey. It’s okay. We’re going to make it out of this, and everything’s going to be fine.”

“How are you always so sure that we’ll be okay?”

Nicole smiles, her dimples deepening. “Because we’re the good guys,” she says, and Waverly pushes a laugh through her nostrils and folds against her.

“I didn’t know how to talk about any of this,” she mumbles into Nicole’s collar, and Nicole twirls Waverly’s hair around her fingers. Her hands fall still when she feels Waverly’s teeth against her collarbone.

“Uh…”

And then Waverly’s tongue.

“Wave?”

And then Waverly’s lips close and there’s pressure as Waverly sucks against Nicole’s skin, and Nicole’s head thumps back against the glass.

“Are you sure this is a good time to be doing this? I mean we’re trying to save you from being held prisoner inside your own brain by an ancient god.” In spite of her words, Nicole’s fingers tighten in Waverly’s hair, holding her head firmly in place. Her other arm circles Waverly’s waist, pulling their bodies tightly together.

“It doesn’t really seem like you want me to stop,” Waverly mumbles against her skin. She bites lightly, and Nicole’s eyes flutter shut.

“I just haven’t held you in a week, and it was starting to make me feel crazy.”

“Oh, I’ll make you feel crazy.” Waverly drags her tongue up the side of Nicole’s neck to her ear, and Nicole’s mouth drops open. Her breath is coming in short bursts now, and she’s amazed that Waverly can affect her body so much, so quickly.

“Well, we’re in my head, right?” Waverly punctuates everything she says with nips and licks, and Nicole fights to keep her knees from buckling. “So, if you think about it, this really isn’t anything more than a sex dream I’m having about you. It wouldn’t be the first time,” she whispers into Nicole’s ear, and Nicole can’t help the groan that it forces.

They’re still pretty new in their relationship, and while they definitely slept together a few times before Willa swooped in and fucked everything up, this is still fairly new territory for them. Hearing that Waverly has dreamed about her like this— well, it does things to Nicole.

“You seem to be accepting that I’m actually here pretty easily.” Between Waverly’s mouth and her now wandering hands, Nicole isn’t sure how much longer she’ll be able to keep her thoughts coherent.

“Well, I figure, either you’re _really_ here somehow, and I get to have my way with you inside of my own mind or they sent you to mess with me.” When Waverly pulls back and looks up at Nicole, her lips are red, and her hair is mussed, and Nicole can only lick her own lips with want. Waverly’s panting, too, and it looks good on her. “Either way, when you save my life, Nicole Haught, we’re probably going to have some residual effects of _them_ come between us physically, and who knows how long it will be before you’ll feel safe enough around me to let me touch you again. When you think about it, this is really the only shot we’ll have at this for awhile, unless you can astral project yourself into my brain at will, which actually seems kind of hot when you think abo—”

Nicole’s mouth is hot against Waverly’s, cutting her off, and Waverly melts into her once again, letting Nicole spin her around and pin her back to the glass.

When she pulls back and presses their foreheads together to catch her breath, Waverly crinkles her nose and says, “You taste like salt and… fish,” and Nicole chuckles and breathes her in.

And then Nicole’s hand is between them, moving in ways that make Waverly gasp and dig her fingers into Nicole’s shoulders.

“Hey, I have a question,” Nicole murmurs into her neck while Waverly moves against her, and Waverly huffs out a laugh.

“You’re kidding me. You want to ask me questions right _now_?”

“You said it yourself. Now is all we’ve got, baby. It’s important.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Waverly arches into her. “O-Okay.”

“So, when Willa was going to shoot me, and Wynonna was going to _let_ her…”

“Nicole,” Waverly whines, “I _really_ don’t want to talk about my family right now.”

“Trust me, baby,” Nicole soothes, and Waverly relaxes and then gives a short nod, shaking her hair into her face. Nicole presses a kiss to her mouth, and Waverly rocks against her once more. “What exactly did you say to convince Wynonna to give up her gun?”

“You— oh _god_ , Nicole— you didn’t hear me?” Nicole shakes her head fervently, trying her best to concentrate with Waverly’s fingers digging harder into her shoulders. “Don’t you— fuck— don’t you know already?”

“I want to hear you say it,” Nicole murmurs against her.

“If you didn’t hear it, how could you possibly know— There. Right there. God, Nicole, don’t— don’t stop.”

“I’ve been over it a million times, Wave. There’s only one thing you could possibly say to make Wynonna give up her gun like she did. Please.” It comes out like she’s begging, like she’s desperate to hear the words, but she doesn’t care. She can feel Waverly’s body start to tense up, and she needs this. _They_ need this.

Waverly tries to speak, but it comes out as a high pitched whine, and Nicole doubles down. “I need you to say it. I need to hear it while I know it’s you in control.” Waverly bows and arches against her, and Nicole holds her tightly with one arm and doesn’t let up. “I need to hear you to say it, Waverly Earp, because I’m in love with you too.”

And then Waverly cries out and goes rigid against her, and Nicole holds on with everything she has until Waverly relaxes, and it’s just the two of them supporting each other once again, the sound of their breathing heavy and thick in the tight space.

“Wow,” Waverly finally breathes, looking up at Nicole. She radiates adoration as she tucks a strand of hair behind Nicole’s ear.

Nicole kisses her softly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you sooner,” Waverly says.

“You still haven’t.” It’s such a big smile, but Nicole can’t help it. She feels like she might die from happiness. Again.

Waverly suddenly seems bashful, her fingers still in Nicole’s hair. “Well, I do, Nicole. I wasn’t just saying it to save the world. I love you more than life itself.”

There’s a handful of things that Nicole thinks about when she thinks of the word happiness. Graduating from the police academy with honors. Standing as her brothers “best man” at his wedding. Joining the Black Badge Division alongside Wynonna and Dolls. And this moment right here, with Waverly Earp professing her love with such reverent devotion.

Nicole splays her hand on the glass behind Waverly’s head. “I’m going to get you out of here, Wave. I promise. I’ll smash this box into a million fucking pieces if I have to,” she says, and suddenly, a single crack splinters through the glass beneath Nicole’s hand. It spiders out, and Nicole watches, slack-jawed as more cracks seep into the glass beneath her hand. It’s like she’s welded in place, unable to pull away. Cracks sound as more glass splits and the entire box pulls against itself. And then, in one glorious moment, the pane Nicole is pressing against shatters, chunks of thick glass falling all around them. With nothing to support her, Nicole stumbles forward with her full weight. Waverly catches her, holds her up.

“Are you okay?”

Nicole doesn’t respond. She’s staring over Waverly’s shoulder.

The blackness that surrounded them outside the glass writhes and moves and comes into focus. Nicole can see that it’s a great wall of swirling shadow, and as it starts whirling around them, shadowy tentacles reaching out and slithering around Nicole’s feet, Waverly turns and stares at her.

“You have to go.”

“What?” Nicole asks dumbly, her hair starting to whip about her face with an unseen wind.

“I can’t protect you from them while you’re in here. You have to go. _Now_.” And Waverly shoves her. Hard.

Nicole stumbles back, arms reaching out for Waverly, and then she’s in the cabin, floating in the ether once more, with Waverly struggling to get to her feet in front of her. She reaches once again for her girlfriend to help her up, but Waverly doesn’t seem to see her.

“Waverly!”

She doesn’t seem to hear her either.

“Waverly, stay here. I’ll come to you,” she tries again, but Waverly just rights the tipped rocking chair and finds a light switch, flooding the room with light. She’s searching the air in front of her for something, and Nicole feels like it might be her.

“Wave, I’m right here!”

Nicole can feel panic rising in her throat.

One the one hand, Waverly looks like herself. No trace of darkness in her eyes. On the other, they’ve made something very old and very powerful _very_ angry.

She needs to get back to the others.

She passes through the cabin wall and into the night. She didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Nicole speeds through the trees toward the factory. The tug behind from Waverly’s pull still as strong as ever.

If feels like she’s back before it feels like any time has passed.

There are footprints in the snow, lots of them, and she remembers the spec ops agents swarming the building as she left.

And then she’s back inside, and there’s a split second as she hurtles toward her body that she’s aware of the gunfire and smoke, and she can see Dolls and Wynonna pinned down on one side while Doc is pinned down on the other. And then there’s a _whump_ and she’s back in her body, surrounded by the darkness and feeling as cold as ever.


	6. Hold the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole and Waverly have some much needed together time. Seriously, this whole chapter is just a bunch of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks forever to wanderson20 for picking out the errors.

Nicole opens her eyes. 

She can still feel Waverly beneath her hands, panting into her ear, like a just-remembered dream. A  _ very _ real, very vivid dream. Her entire body is still humming.

And then the gunshots drive it out of her mind, and she remembers that she’s coming to in the middle of a shootout. She blinks, and there’s nothing left of the gunfire but the echoes, still ringing in her ears. 

“Can you see them?” 

“I can see one of them.” 

“Well,  _ shoot _ him, Doc.” 

“I would if you hadn’t shot him already, _Wynonna_.”   

“I didn’t shoot anyone. Dolls?” 

“Wasn’t me. I was covering the door.” 

“Well, somebody must have. He dropped like a sack of flour.” 

“Uh, guys?” Nicole calls weakly. 

“Shit. Nicole?” Wynonna pops into Nicole’s field of vision, looks down at her. “Oh, hey! We’ve got a little mess we’ve gotta clean up. Grab a bad guy and help?” 

“Wait—” Nicole starts, but Wynonna’s already gone. 

She can hear the muffled thumps and thuds of boots hitting cement and old floorboards, dragging and rustling, and Wynonna’s occasional grunts. 

Eventually, Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls crowd around her again. 

“So, funny story,” Nicole says. “I can’t actually move.” 

“Yeah. The, uh, witch said this would happen.” Dolls casts a furtive glance at Wynonna. They still haven’t mentioned that they spent an afternoon with her mother. “There’s a mild paralytic in the tea.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“To prevent injury. You were still recovering from your... allergic reaction. Must have missed it.”

“Oh.” Nicole frowns. “I guess so.” 

“It should wear off soon,” Dolls says. 

“I didn’t know you had allergies. What are you allergic to?” Wynonna asks. 

“Eggs.” “Fish,” Nicole and Dolls say at the same time. 

Wynonna just huffs and rolls her eyes. “You know, the more time you two spend together, the weirder you get.”  

“It would appear that this little experiment of yours didn’t quite pan out,” Doc says, and Nicole’s confusion must show on her face because he adds, “You drank a concoction that knocked you out cold for a few minutes and then paralyzed you. We’re no closer to finding Waverly than we were a week ago.” 

“That’s not exactly true,” Nicole says. “I had a… dream. Or a vision? I’m really not sure how any of this works.”  

“What did you see?” Dolls asks. 

“You found her?” Wynonna asks, plopping down next to her on the cot. Somewhere in the last five minutes, Wynonna has managed to find herself a bottle of whiskey.

Nicole flashes back to Waverly’s gasps, hot in her ear, desperate fingers digging into her shoulders while Waverly’s body thuds against the glass under Nicole’s thrusts, and she hopes to god that Wynonna doesn’t notice the blood rising in her cheeks. “I, uh, know where she is, but I think we may have royally pissed off the gods.” 

Wynonna grins. “Well, now that sounds like just another Friday night in Purgatory.” She takes a swig of whiskey and makes a clicking sound with her tongue. 

It takes Nicole a good twenty minutes before she can sit up. Twenty minutes they don’t have. 

“Mild paralytic, my ass,” she finally says, trying to stand. 

“Well, it makes sense with a substance that can knock you out that quickly. It’s actually extremely well designed. I wonder if we could reverse engineer it,” Dolls says, and Nicole shoots him a look. “I’m just saying it’s a good thing that you didn’t collapse on the floor and hurt yourself or sleep walk out into the woods and right into enemy combatants.” 

“Speaking of which, are they…?”  

Wynonna nods to the corner, where there’s a heap of spec ops agents bound with zip ties, unconscious in a pile. 

 “Are they dead?” 

“It’s hard to say,” Wynonna says around the whiskey bottle. “A minute before you came to, they all just kind of collapsed.” 

“Waverly,” Nicole breathes. 

“You think Waverly had something to do with stopping them?” Dolls asks.

“I know she did. See, before, when I was… um, out, I guess? I had this kind of out-of-body experience. I saw them flanking the building. They had these smoke tendrils coming from everywhere, making them move. Almost like they were puppets or something.”  

“So?”  

“ _So_ , I think that Legion was controlling them. And when I broke Waverly out, she must have regained control and stopped it.”  

“When you broke Waverly out of what?”  

“Glass box in her mind,” Nicole says absently, and Doc and Dolls exchange a look. 

“Uh, Nicole? You  _ sure _ you didn’t hit your head when you fell?” Wynonna asks. 

It takes her a moment to realize that they’re all staring at her like she’s from a different planet. 

“It’s kind of hard to explain out loud,” Nicole says slowly, “but I think I was inside Waverly’s mind. Legion had her trapped in some kind of box, and I’m not sure what happened, but I touched the glass and it shattered.”  

“Now, see, I  _ told _ you nothing good would come of meddling with their kind,” Doc says.  

Wynonna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, dude, I think I know the answer to this one! The Gate!” 

“I don’t understand,” Nicole shakes her head. “Did you find it?”

“It’s not a  _ place— _ like a physical gate in the Triangle, to let Legion in. It’s  _ Waverly _ . She let them in.” 

“What’s all this about a gate?” Doc asks, and Dolls holds up his hand to shush him. Doc rolls his eyes and slouches against the wall. 

“But Bobo’s letter said there was also a key. If Waverly is the Gate, then where’s the key that goes to it? Uh, her?” Nicole says, trying to piece this together, and Wynonna looks at her like the penny should have dropped already. 

“Dude, it’s you!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the freaking Key! Don’t you get it? Legion opened the Gate— Waverly— and got into the Triangle through her, and then kept Waverly prisoner in some kind of box, right? Well, what do keys do?”

“They open things,” Doc says. 

“Right,” Wynonna throws back at him, her excitement growing. “Nicole opened Waverly’s brain prison or whatever and let her out. God, I feel _so_ smart right now. I’m getting really good at this.”   

“I don’t— I can’t be this Key,” Nicole says slowly, processing. “I’m just… me. There’s nothing supernatural about me.”

“I beg to differ. I personally think you’re out of this world,” Waverly says from the doorway, and four sets of eyes turn to stare at her. “What? Too corny?” 

Suddenly, there’s three different guns trained on her, and she puts her hands up and takes a step back. 

“The last time I saw you, you killed Waverly’s girlfriend and vanished into the night,” Wynonna says coldly, and Waverly’s smile fades instantly. 

“I remember,” she says, and she suddenly looks incredibly small.

Nicole still feels sluggish, but she finds it in herself to push past her friends and stand between them and Waverly. She only stumbles once. 

“I was going to come get you,” she says, and Waverly ducks her head, her hands still up.

“I couldn’t spend another second in that cabin. Nicole, they’re _really_ angry with you. But I’m me again, for now.”  

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Doc says, cocking the hammer on his revolver, and pain rips through Nicole’s heart when no one contradicts him. 

She closes the gap between her and Waverly, and takes her girlfriend’s hand, happy to see Waverly’s other hand drop back to her side as she laces their fingers together. She gives Nicole a grateful smile.

Then, Nicole turns and looks at Dolls. “I think we need to talk to the salt witch again.” 

—

“You’ve been sleeping here?” 

They’re on Nicole’s cot, with Nicole’s back against the wall and Waverly nestled against her chest. Nicole twists thick strands of brown hair through her fingers. 

Doc sits across the room, chair tipped back and hat pulled low, but Nicole knows that it will take less than a second for him to have a gun on Waverly if something goes wrong. 

Dolls and Wynonna left some time ago, after Dolls had a hushed conversation with the salt witch in the corner on his cell phone. He’d initially put up some resistance, but Nicole had pulled him aside and strongly recommended he tell Wynonna who he was actually going to see. Once he had, Wynonna had strongly recommended that he fuck himself for not telling her about her mother in the first place and climbed shotgun into his narc mobile, throwing a look out of the window that said, “are you coming?” 

Nicole then had a quiet discussion with Doc about keeping Waverly safe before settling down with Waverly to wait. 

“I have,” Nicole tells her. “Didn’t want to be far from the equipment in case we got a lead.” 

“What about your cat?”

Nicole smiles against Waverly’s hair. “Nedley’s looking in on her. I think he might actually be growing on her.” Waverly lets out a tiny sigh and shifts against her. “How are you holding up?” 

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Waverly admits, and Nicole can hear the exhaustion in her voice. 

“I know, baby. It’s almost over. Just hold on a little longer.” 

“Do you really think you can stop them?” The vulnerability in Waverly’s voice absolutely kills Nicole, but she just tightens her arm around around Waverly’s stomach.  

“No problem,” Nicole says. “What’s going up against an ancient god in the face of true love?”  

At that, Waverly tilts and fixes her with the fiercest gaze Nicole has ever seen. “I do love you. I love you so much that I’m not sure I can let you do this. What if they hurt you?”  

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say you love me, but really?  _ Let _ me do this?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Wave, I’m not going to stand by and let this thing erase you from the inside out. I have to do  _ something _ . I happen to love you, too, you know.” 

Waverly bites her lip, and that coy smile that she has is back on her face. It throws Nicole back to that day at the homestead when she’d first seen it, when she’d first felt that maybe—  _ maybe _ — Waverly was open to feeling something for her, too. 

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say it back,” Waverly says. She presses a soft kiss to Nicole’s lips and then pulls back, shivering. “Nicole. You’re  _ freezing _ .” 

“Am I? I don’t feel cold.” Except that she does. She can’t even remember what being warm feels like anymore.  

Waverly’s not buying it. “There’s no way you can’t feel that. It’s like you have hypothermia. I’m surprised you’re not turning blue.” 

Nicole shrugs. “It’s been that way for a while now.”

Waverly’s eyes narrow. “How long is a while?” 

“Um.” Waverly doesn’t back down, and Nicole crumbles. “Since the night you went to the cabin.” 

“Since the night I sucked the life out of you, you mean.” Her voice is hollow. 

Nicole wonders how many times her heart can break in one day. 

“Hey,” she soothes. “That wasn’t you. They tricked you.”

“If I’d been a little smarter, I could have—”  

“No,” Nicole says firmly. “We’re not doing that. You’re not blaming yourself for what happened.” She pulls Waverly against her, and Waverly burrows into her further, one hand fisting into Nicole’s shirt. “The stone witch said you were the one who _saved_ me. That I wouldn’t be...” Nicole clears her throat. “You brought me back.”   

“I brought you back from _where_?”   

“I don’t know,” Nicole admits.

A few minutes of silence stretch between them, and they’ve been speaking so softly, in lovers’ tones, but Nicole still wonders if Doc has heard any of this. If he has, he doesn’t let on. Nicole doesn’t think he’s moved in an hour. 

“So what does this mean? For us?” Waverly finally asks. 

“I don’t really know, baby. I just know that I’m happy to have you right here, right now. We’ll worry about the rest when we have to.” 

“How do you do that?” 

“How do I do what?” 

“How do you make me feel like I’m the safest, most protected girl in the whole world?” 

Nicole laughs at that. “You say that like you didn’t literally bring me back from the dead. I’m not the only one who does the protecting. It’s a two way street.” 

Waverly toys with the bullet against Nicole’s chest. “I still don’t understand how I did that. I’m not the heir. I’m not anything. Except for the god of multitudes riding around inside of me, I’m just Waverly.” 

Another laugh from Nicole. “Waverly Earp, you’ve never been  _ just _ anything.” Nicole chews her lip, because maybe now is not really the time. On the other hand, she knows that now is really all they’ve got. “Have you ever been outside of the Ghost River Triangle?” 

“I haven’t really had the chance. I was busy with high school and then with—” Waverly clears her throat, sheepishly rolls the bullet between her fingers. “With Champ. And then I was working, putting myself through school. I studied a lot, and I never really got the chance to travel.” 

“I don’t mean travel,” Nicole says slowly, hand-picking her words. “I mean, over the boundary. Have you ever stepped foot over the line?” 

Waverly sits back and looks at her, blinks. 

“Nicole, what are you asking me?” 

Truthfully, Nicole’s not really sure what she’s asking, but the look in Waverly’s eyes makes her think that maybe she’s overstepped. “I’m sorry,” she tries. “I shouldn’t have said—”

“You know about my father?” Waverly asks in the smallest voice, and Nicole feels the walls of her world start to crumble. 

“ _ You _ know about your father?” Nicole’s gut wrenches, and she feels like she’s going to be sick. “Shit.” 

Nicole waits for a reaction, but Waverly just stares at her fingers, twisting them in her lap. 

“Well,” Waverly says finally. “Now you know what I am.” 

“A Virgo?” Nicole half jokes, but when Waverly lifts her eyes and Nicole sees them red and filled with tears, she immediately softens. Christ, it’s like looking into the face of the sun and watching it cry. “Hey. Did I ever tell you how I first heard the name Waverly Earp?” 

Waverly just shakes her head, and her hair tumbles into her face.  

“Well, I’d only been a few weeks on the job. Just moved here, hadn’t even completely unpacked yet. It was quiet then, nothing like what it turned into once Wynonna came back, and I was taking a page out of Nedley’s book, meeting folks in town, putting myself out there, trying to be friendly, you know? One of my first calls, Pete and some of the boys got a little rowdy down at Shorty’s, and Nedley and I had to throw them in the drunk tank for the night. Later that morning, I had some paperwork I had to file, and when I got back, there was this huge plate of banana muffins on the counter in the office, along with a thermos of coffee and a note requesting we give some to the boys in the tank because, and I quote, ‘hangovers aren’t fun for anyone, not even misogynistic jackasses.’” 

Waverly takes a shaky breath and smudges a tear off her cheek with a flat palm.

“I remember,” she says softly. 

“I’d never even laid eyes on you, and I knew right then that I wanted you in my life,” Nicole says, stroking gentle fingers through Waverly’s hair. “And since that day, I’ve gotten to know you. I’ve seen your kindness and your compassion and your thirst for life. You are by far the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’ve been surrounded by loss and darkness your whole life and you still somehow manage to be unbelievably soft and kind and positive. And I know that letting Willa back into your life must have been incredibly difficult, but I watched you make room for her, give her the benefit of the doubt, even when she was plotting to destroy everything you love. You tried with her until the very end, even though she clearly didn’t deserve it. I’ve been thinking about this all day, Waverly, and— sure— it was a shock for me at first, trying to figure out exactly what it means for you to have a father who was a revenant, but honestly, you’ve never been anything in your whole life but good. So, yes. I do know what you are. I’ve always known, since that very first day. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, and it kills me that you can’t see it.” 

Waverly looks at her like she’s never seen her before. Her eyes are wide, and slightly puffy, laced with genuine surprise at first and then something softer. Something like acceptance. And then Waverly’s gaze drifts to Nicole’s lips, and Nicole wonders for what must be the millionth time how Waverly Earp has such a magnetic pull on her. 

And then she doesn’t wonder anything at all because Waverly is kissing her. 

It’s bittersweet. Nicole knows that it comes from a place of pain, and she wraps her arms more fully around her girlfriend and kisses back, pouring all of the comfort and acceptance and support she can muster into it. When they break apart, Nicole presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Who your parents are doesn’t change the fact that you’re an amazing woman,” and Waverly kisses her again before nestling back against her once more. 

“We need to figure out a way to warm you up,” Waverly says, sleepily. “Kissing you is like sticking my tongue to a flagpole in the middle of winter.” 

Nicole just chuckles and drags her fingers through Waverly’s hair. 

“I probably should have told you this sooner, but Dolls and I found your mother.” She tries to make it as gentle as she can, she really does, but she knows that it’s still shocking news.  

Waverly pulls back and stares at her. 

“ _What_?”  

“She’s in the city. Not far from here. She’s special, like you.” 

“Why would you and Dolls be looking for my mother?”  

“We were trying to find you, Wave. We were desperate. Dolls has some contacts that did some digging and gave us an address. We drove up there earlier today.” 

“You  _ met _ her? Did she know who you are?” 

“Dolls and I were very upfront with her. And she was expecting us.” 

“Oh.” 

“She sees things, Waverly. She knows. She’s the one who made me the tea that brought me to you. You’re safe now because of her.”  

“I guess if she really wanted me safe, she could have not left us in the first place.”

“Well, that’s just it. She said she made some kind of deal in order to protect you. She was forced to leave you, but it killed her to do it. She still loves you.” 

Nicole waits for a reaction— for any kind of reaction, but it seems that Waverly has shut down. For a moment, Nicole is afraid that the blackness will swirl from within and those fathomless eyes will swallow Waverly up once more.  

“Wave? Say something,” Nicole whispers.  

That seems to rouse Waverly, but she still only says, “I don’t know  _ what _ to say.” 

“I promised her that I would make it safe for you two to see each other again.” 

That does the trick, Nicole thinks. There’s some fire back in Waverly’s eyes, at least. “And how are you planning on doing that, exactly?” 

“I have no idea.”  

“This is really big, Nicole. Why on earth would you promise something like this that you have no idea how to deliver? Or if you even can deliver it?” 

“Again, I have no idea. I just know that I’ll never stop trying. God, she hugged me so tight, Waverly. Like she was trying to, I don’t know, hug you instead? It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, but that’s what it felt like.”  

“So, Wynonna and Dolls…”  

“They’re with her right now.”  

“Okay. So, everyone gets to meet my mother but me. Fan-fricking-tastic.” 

“Hey,” Nicole says softly, “one problem at a time? Once we get a handle on Legion, we can drive out to the boundary and see if you can cross it. Then, we'll at least know what we're dealing with. Just, please, can we make sure you're safe first?”  

Waverly nods and lets Nicole pull her back into what Nicole hopes is a comforting embrace. This is all so delicate, and she really has no idea what she’s doing.  

They sit like that for a long while, and by the even sounds of Waverly’s breathing, Nicole figures her girlfriend has finally found some small amount of rest. It’s only then that Doc catches her eye from across the room, and the look on his face breaks her heart because it seems to her that she’s staring directly into the face of unbridled envy. He tips his hat, and she tries to tell him without words that everything’s going to be fine. She knows he doesn’t believe her, so she’ll just have to prove it. 

 — 

“Wave, wake up,” Nicole murmurs against Waverly’s temple. She presses a kiss there and rubs her palms up and down Waverly’s outstretched thighs a few times. Waverly leans back harder against her and mumbles something incoherent. “Baby,” Nicole tries again.

Waverly stirs again, and blinks. “Hey,” she says up at Nicole, and Nicole grins. 

“Hi. They’re back.” 

She holds her girlfriend until Waverly stretches her arms, bracketing Nicole’s head behind her, arches her back, and then slides forward on the cot. 

“Did you sleep?” she asks Nicole over her shoulder, and Nicole shrugs. 

“I couldn’t right now if I wanted to. Can’t seem to get my brain to quiet down.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Waverly asks, and Nicole laughs.  

“You’re kidding, right? You don’t think you’ve got enough to focus on right now?”  

She slinks back, a ball of sheepishness, and Nicole slips just a little bit more in love. 

“If you guys are done making doe eyes at each other, Dolls and I have news,” Wynonna says, and Waverly shoots off the cot and makes a beeline for her. 

“What was she like? Did she ask about me? Tell me everything.” 

Nicole slumps and stretches out on the cot. Holding Waverly was something she’d missed sorely while Waverly was away, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything, but god is she stiff. 

It couldn’t hurt to shut her eyes for a few minutes. 

—

When Nicole opens her eyes again, there’s light streaming in through the windows. Christ, how long was she asleep? She sits up, pain rippling through her back. 

Dolls, Doc, and Wynonna are sitting around Dolls’ desk, drinking coffee and talking quietly. Waverly is nowhere to be seen. 

Nicole lurches. 

“Where’s Waverly?” Her throat is dry, and she feels like a mess. 

“Relax, Agent Haught,” Dolls says, sipping his coffee. “She’s fine. She’s just washing up.”  

“Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”  

“Honestly? Dolls said you hadn’t slept in, like, a week. We figured you deserved to be rested before we try this hairbrained idea that Wendy gave us.”  

“I look forward to hearing what it is, but you’ll have to give me a minute.” 

She hauls herself off her cot and heads for the makeshift wash station that she and Dolls had fashioned in the old factory bathroom. 

Waverly is there, her back to the door, hair swept up and pinned on top of her head, strands falling and framing her slender neck in a messy cascade. The muscles in her bare back ripple as she washes herself with a rag, and Nicole’s breath catches in her throat. It’s loud enough that Waverly half turns her head and throws a coy look over her shoulder.  

“You’re awake,” she says.  

“I am.”  

“And you’re here.” 

“Yes.” 

“And so am I.” 

“Uh-huh.” Nicole’s mouth has gone dry. 

“Come kiss me,” Waverly instructs, and Nicole balls her hands up at her sides.  

“I’m… not sure that’s a good idea.” Nicole’s feet feel rooted to the floor. It seems so much like  _ her _ Waverly, but still she doesn’t move. She’s doesn’t dare. If she touches Waverly now, there might be no stopping her, and they’re not exactly alone. 

“Nicole, with all of this happening, there’s so much pent up energy inside of me. You have  _ no _ idea. All I can think about is you. Your skin under my hands. Your body beneath mine. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.” Waverly keeps her back to Nicole and continues running the rag over her skin, down over one shoulder, water drops kissing down Waverly’s skin in rivulets. It seems to Nicole that there’s something dark stirring just below the surface, but she can’t be sure. She’s been looking so hard for the shadow in Waverly, that she’s afraid she might be seeing something that’s not there. But what if she’s right, and this— one tiny moment of weakness on her part is all it takes to seal Waverly up again? What if she gives in right now and never gets her back? 

“I think…” Nicole licks dry lips. She can do this, she can. “I think it’s probably best if we, um, table this discussion until you’re actually safe.” 

“Okay,” Waverly says softly, and just like that, she’s pulling straps up over her shoulders. It’s only when she’s fully covered that she turns around. “I’m sorry for pushing.” 

“No,” Nicole breathes out in a rush. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize. Once this is all behind us and you’re relatively safe again, we’ll spend some quality time together. I promise.”  

And then that sunshine smile is back on Waverly’s face, and Nicole feels like she’s made the right choice. “I’ll hold you to that,” Waverly says, and Nicole laughs. 

“You won’t have to do much to convince me, believe me.” 

They share a look and for a moment, it feels like it used to, before the darkness. And then Waverly steps through it and says, “Nicole, I’m scared.” 

Nicole reaches for her hand, takes the rag from her, brushing their fingers together. She means it to be comforting, but there’s a shock of electricity she can’t deny. “I know."

She rinses the rag and wrings it out before wiping it across her own neck. 

“But I’m not scared for the reasons you might think. And I know that this—” she gestures between them, “is still new, but I want to be completely honest with you.” 

“Okay.”  

“I’m scared that Wendy’s plan is going to work.” Nicole’s eyebrows shoot up, and Waverly races to continue. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die, and I  _ definitely _ don’t want to hurt any of you, but I kind of like being able to contribute, you know? Everyone has always treated me like this breakable thing, and I finally feel like I’m not. I just… I don’t want to lose that.” 

“Waverly, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that I _like_ this power. I like being able to stop the bad guys. I don’t want to lose it. So I need you to help me find a way to stop Legion from hurting anyone else without banishing them or destroying them or whatever it is we’re doing.”  

Nicole opens her mouth to reply, and no sound comes out.  

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” Waverly says, “but I can’t go back to being stuck in the office, waiting to hear if you or my sister are going to make it home this time. I _can’t_. I’m not some damsel in distress. I love that you guys want to take care of me, but I need to be able to protect you, too.”   

Nicole knows, dimly, that she’s let go of the rag. She hears it plop on the floor. Nicole’s back still aches, and her mind races, and Waverly is a bundle of hopeless vulnerability.  

How can she be standing here, asking her this?  

“You want me to… help you save Legion?” she asks stupidly, like she can’t believe she’s saying it.  

“No!” Waverly says. “Not save them. I want you to help me _neutralize_ them. Help me harness their power so I can use it for good.”   

“Waverly—”  

“Hey did you guys get trapped in here or—” Wynonna strides around the corner and stalls out just inside the door. “Waverly? Why does Nicole look like you just shot her puppy?” 


	7. Face the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna and Waverly disagree. Doc comforts Nicole. Legion is a dick.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“Wynonna, it’s not your decision to make.”

“The hell it’s not.”

“It’s _not_.” All the fire, all the passion that Nicole loves so much about Waverly is boiling on the surface and is currently aimed at Wynonna. “You’re not the one holding them off. You’re not the one with a million voices inside of you, telling you to kill everyone you love. You have _so_ much power, but it doesn’t come with any of the bullshit, Wynonna. You don’t get to choose this for me.”

“Excuse me?” Wynonna’s mouth gapes. “You think I don’t deal with the possibility of having to kill everyone I love, Waverly? I killed Willa! I murdered daddy! This curse forces me to watch everyone I love die at my own hand. You think I wouldn’t give it up in a second to have either one of them back?”

“And what about the one sister that you do have? I’m _right_ _here_ , Wynonna!”

“Oh my god, Waverly, this is insane. I’m begging you to not put yourself in danger, and you’re accusing me of not caring about you? God!”

Nicole knows this isn’t her fight. She would leave them to have this discussion in peace, but Wynonna is blocking the door, trapping her in the makeshift washroom with Waverly.

“You can’t take this away from me,” Waverly says, and Wynonna throws her hands up and lets them slap back against her thighs.

“Listen to yourself, Waverly,” she says. “Take this away from you? I want to save you! I’m trying to keep you from dying or going insane or— whatever’s worse than that. I can’t watch you _become_ this thing.” There’s a flash of something on her face, and her voice softens. “ _Please_ don’t ask me to.”  

“Wynonna, I don’t want to die, either. That’s not going to happen. But I need to be able to help end the curse. _You_ need me. I can do this. I _can_.”

“Okay. I’m not saying I support this, but let’s say you do this. How would it even work?”

“I’m still working on the details, but I think it could work. I mean,” Waverly waves toward Nicole. “Keys don’t just open things, they also lock things up, right? And we have a hell of a Key on our side.”

“You honestly think you’re strong enough to contain a locked up god?” Wynonna asks, and Waverly scoffs.

“Have you not been paying attention, Wynonna?”

“And you’re okay with this?” That’s for Nicole.

The looks that the Earp sisters are giving her make Nicole want to be literally anywhere else. The station, doing paperwork? Hosing out the drunk tank after someone’s puked in it? Anywhere on earth with Champ Hardy? Fine. Any place but right here, right now.

“I’m… still processing,” she says. This whole conversation is a field of landmines.

“I can’t believe that you’re actually considering this.” Wynonna’s softness evaporates so visibly that Nicole swears she can still see it hovering in the air around her. “You’re supposed to love her.”

Nicole bristles. “First of all, how I feel about Waverly is not any of your business. Second of all, I _said_ that I’m still processing.”

“You spend an awful lot of time lecturing me about how I couldn’t possibly take care of Waverly because I drink—”

Waverly cuts her off. “That’s the whole problem. I don’t need _either_ of you to take care of me.”

She shoulders past her sister, leaving Nicole and Wynonna in the washroom.

“I have never once questioned your love for Waverly,” Nicole says. Her words sound far more solid than she feels as she pushes her way past Wynonna. She doesn’t falter, not even when she hears Wynonna’s “You do all the frickin’ time” echo in the washroom behind her.

—

Waverly and Dolls are both nowhere to be seen, so Nicole settles on her cot and runs a hand through her hair. She doesn’t love being caught in between the Earp sisters. She doesn’t love what Waverly is asking her to do.

“I hope there’s no trouble brewing in paradise.”

It’s Doc.

“Sorry. I thought I was alone.”

“There is no need to apologize to me, Nicole. Believe it or not, I understand what it is to be on the end of an Earp tether.”

“I’m not _tethered_ ,” Nicole says, but she can see the truth in it. There isn’t much she wouldn’t do for Waverly Earp. Normally, it’s a nice thought, that she has someone in her life that she feels that strongly for, but with what’s looming over them, it’s kind of unsettling.

“If you say so,” Doc says, sitting next to her. She kind of half smiles, half laughs, and she can tell by the look on his face that he knows she’s full of it.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits.

“I have no doubt that when it comes to you and Waverly, you will figure it out. It’s like you were meant to be together,” Doc says, and Nicole has no idea what possesses her, but she leans against his shoulder. She can feel him stiffen, and she wonders if she’s overstepped, but when she feels a comforting hand on her back, she smiles.

“I just want her to be safe.”

“I know you do. It’s what we all want. Especially Wynonna. The trouble is, you both love her, and you’re both stubborn as a mule, so you’re bound to butt heads on occasion. When you figure Waverly into the equation, well…” Doc laughs. “That’s three very strong opinions in one very small space, and they may not always be completely in line.” Nicole stares up at him. “Have I said something wrong? I don’t mean to intrude.”

“No, it’s… I’ve never said that I love her.”

“But you do,” Doc says easily, and Nicole settles against him once more in order to avoid his gaze.

“Yes.” They spend a minute or two in silence and then Nicole says, “If I do this, will you help me protect her?”

Doc’s mustache twitches and then he says, “With my dying breath.” And Nicole knows he means it. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

—

An hour later, Nicole finds Waverly sitting outside on a stump, not far into the surrounding woods. It’s almost like her compass still points toward Waverly, and she wonders, as she crunches through the snow, if it will always be like this or if it’s just left over from the salt witch’s tea.

She can see Waverly’s breath puff into the air, warm steam against the cold, and she tries not to think about how she can’t see her own.

Waverly makes room, and they sit together in silence.

“You’re freezing,” Nicole points out after a few minutes. She picks at a cuticle. “And I can’t warm you up.” Nicole’s not even wearing her jacket to drape over Waverly’s shoulders, and she makes a mental to note to wear it from now on, even though she doesn’t need it herself.

“I’m tired of always being left behind,” Waverly says. It’s not the voice of a woman who has untold power at her fingertips. It’s the voice of someone who’s fragile, on the verge of breaking down, and Nicole swivels her head in alarm.

“What?”

Waverly sighs and pushes herself up off the stump. “My friends are the fastest gunslinger in a hundred years, a woman who is trained in self-defense, first aid, and marksmanship, the frickin’ Earp heir, and— I don’t even know _what_ Dolls is.” Waverly wrings her hands. “And what am I? _Research girl_? The point is, every time there’s trouble, all of you run straight towards it, and it’s all, ‘Waverly, wait here,’ and ‘Waverly, see if you can find out anything on this revenant,’ and ‘Waverly, hide!’ Well, I’m sick of it.” She’s pacing now, and Nicole doesn’t miss the crackle of electricity that shoots between her fingers. Subconsciously, she slides one hand up her belt and rests it on her gun. “For the first time in my life, I’m saying no. I’m not the helpless little sister or the damsel in distress, Nicole. I’m not. I’m powerful. I single handedly rescued Dolls from that government black site, for crying out loud! And I was _fine_. I prepared my whole life to be the heir. I _wanted_ to be the one to stop it all. And then I stood by and watched as not one of my sisters, but _two_ of them— It’s like everyone but me—” Waverly closes her eyes, tries to compose herself. “I’m sorry that I hurt people, and I will fight _so_ hard to keep that from happening again, but I refuse to be left behind.” She sets her jaw. “You’re not taking this from me.”

Waverly is a whirlwind, and suddenly Nicole feels like she’s back in her cruiser, with Waverly next to her, ranting about how everything is moving all too fast and could she please stand still _for one fricking minute_. Nicole opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

“Waverly.” It’s Wynonna.

Waverly whirls around to face her. Nicole still has her hand on her gun.

“You’re my sister. The only one I have left. And I don’t want to stand by and watch as— as this thing takes you over. I don’t want to be the one that has to pull the trigger. Not on you, Waves.” Nicole can see what it’s costing Wynonna to get through this, can visibly see it on her face. “Will you please just listen to Wendy’s plan?”

Waverly wraps her arms around herself, like she’s trying to hold herself in.

Finally, she nods.

Wynonna looks relieved. “Okay.”

—

The _plan_ isn’t really a plan, Waverly thinks. It’s more of her mother throwing a bowl of spaghetti against the wall and hoping something will stick. In truth, not a single one of them knows how to handle this, this _Thing_ inside of her, and she’s getting more and more frustrated with how no one seems to be listening to her.

If Wynonna would just let her help end the curse, it could all be over so quickly, and they could go back to living their lives.

And just what, exactly, would that look like? She tries to imagine Wynonna settling down. It’s not that Wynonna is incapable, Waverly thinks, but she just can’t manage to picture it. Maybe it’s because all of her concentration these days is going to containing the shadow storm swirling inside of her. At any given moment, she feels like she’ll rip apart at the seams and Legion will rush out into the world.

She knows it’s a steep price to pay, but she will protect them.

She _will_.

—

Waverly drives her Jeep into town and sits at the bar, sips on a whiskey. She’s not afraid to come in here anymore, revenants or not.

“I’m going on the record and saying that I don’t like this.”

She spins on the stool, and Nicole is standing there, her thumbs hooked into her belt. Her voice is low, like she’s trying not to be overheard, and Waverly checks the relatively crowded bar. It’s too noisy in here for anyone to really be listening, she thinks, Saturday night and all.

“I can handle anyone in here,” Waverly says and takes another sip. A hesitant smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Suit yourself.” Waverly’s smile fades, and she shrugs and swivels back. She can be nonchalant about this, too. She finishes her drink and wonders if Nicole has left. She tries to be sly about her glance back, but when she makes eye contact with Nicole, she remembers that the two of them don’t exactly do subtle super well. Nicole is standing in the exact same spot with her thumbs looped in her belt in the exact same way. “I wish you’d just sit down.”

“I need to say this.”

“Okay. Should we go outside?”

“Probably.”

Waverly sets crisp bills on the counter, in order from largest to smallest, and pushes herself up off the barstool. “Lead the way, Agent,” she says, and Nicole does. Neither speak again until they’re settled in Nicole’s cruiser.

“You’ll have to tell me if the heat’s okay,” Nicole says. “I can’t really tell anymore what it feels like.”

She sounds nervous.

“Nicole. It’s fine.”

They sit for a few minutes in silence, until Waverly reaches over and adjusts the blower on the heater.

“I don’t like what you’re asking me to do, Wave,” Nicole finally says. She looks tired, maybe more tired than Waverly has ever seen her. “I mean, I understand _why_ you’re asking, but I don’t like it.”

Legion rattles against Waverly like a prisoner shaking the bars of their cell. “Okay,” she says.

Nicole sighs. “It’s not really fair, you know? I mean, I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“But,” Nicole leans her head back and closes her eyes, and Waverly realizes it’s the first time that Nicole hasn’t had her guard up since that day she’d wrapped her hands around Nicole’s throat. “I also get that it’s your body and, ultimately, your decision. Waverly, I _hate_ what you’re asking me to do, but if this is what you're deciding, I will support you. And if it gets out of hand, I’ll try to help you in any way I can.”

Waverly lets out a long, slow breath. The love she feels for this woman surges up inside of her, but there isn’t quite room for it with Legion taking up most of her real estate, and she lurches and claws at the door handle. She gets the door open just in time to vomit out on the sidewalk.

Nicole’s eyes are wide. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not _that_ much.”

“Come on. I’m taking you home.”

Waverly doesn’t protest. Being at the homestead will be good for her, she thinks. She has every intention of asking Nicole to stay with her tonight, once they get there, but for the first time since they started seeing each other, Waverly isn’t sure she’ll say yes.

—

Nicole does stay, but when Waverly wakes up in the middle of the night, Nicole’s side of the bed is empty. She finds her downstairs on the couch, hunched over her laptop, her face glowing a soft blue in its light.

Waverly wraps her shawl around her as she pads down the stairs.

Nicole looks up at her and smiles, and for just a moment, it feels like it did before.

“What are you doing?” Waverly says softly, leaning against the banister.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nicole says, matching her tone. “I found a book online from an occult shop that might help.” She closes her laptop gently and stands up. “I just ordered it.”

“Still trying to find a way to save me?” Waverly means it to be romantic, but there’s an underlying hardness that she can’t seem to weed out. Judging by NIcole’s flinch, she hears it too.

“I just want to have a backup plan in case something goes wrong.” She stands in front of Waverly at the base of the stairs and looks up at her. “I can’t lose you, Waverly.” She sets her jaw. “I _won’t_.”

“Come to bed,” Waverly says, and she takes her hand.

They’re both so cold that it almost feels normal.

—

Waverly doesn’t see Nicole for four days.

And it’s all she can do to keep Wynonna off her back about Legion.

“There’s no guarantee that banishing them to that _thing_ that mom gave you would even work,” is all that Waverly will say about it. She drives off in her Jeep before Wynonna can argue with her.

Nicole’s little house on the outskirts of town is dark. She’s not at the station either, and Nedley hasn’t seen her.

Waverly texts her, _Where are you?_

And Nicole texts back immediately, _Everything is fine. I’ll fill you in when I get back._

_Back from where?_

Waverly’s phone doesn’t buzz again.

—

For her part, Nicole works two full days— both late shifts and both full of casework involving a string of break ins in the area— and when she gets the book in the mail the second day after her shift, she tosses it into the back seat of her cruiser and drives out of Purgatory.

It’s nearly 2am by the time she pulls into the driveway of the little blue bungalow.

Wendy is sitting on the porch, waiting for her with a hot cup of tea.

“I’m going to save her,” Nicole tells her, climbing out of her car, and Wendy just smiles.

“I know you are,” she says.

—

Nicole drives back into Purgatory two days later with a fully read ancient text on the old gods under her arm and supplies crafted by the salt witch herself in her bag.

She feeds her cat and then collapses on her bed for a full day. She doesn’t even sleep under the covers anymore.

—

Waverly is at the Homestead making lunch when she hears tires crunching gravel outside. She catches a glimpse of Nicole’s cruiser through the living room window, drops the butter knife on the counter with a clatter, and runs outside straight for Nicole, barefoot.

When Nicole sees Waverly coming, she staggers back, groping for her gun, until she realizes that Waverly’s eyes are clear and there’s a smile on her face. She changes her stance at the last minute and when Waverly launches herself into Nicole’s arms, she catches her easily.

“Wave?”

She’s clearly confused, and Waverly blanches. “I’m sorry. I just… missed you?” She buries her face into Nicole’s neck and breathes in. “They’re awful when you’re not here.”

“Well,” Nicole sets her down and drags her fingers through Waverly’s hair. “I’m here now.”

“Where were you?”

“I went to go see Wendy.”

Waverly blinks. “You spent four days with my mother?”

“Two,” Nicole corrects her and leads her inside. “You can’t be out here barefoot. I can’t warm you up anymore, remember?”

Waverly rolls her eyes but allows herself to be pulled up the steps. “Tell me about her.”

“Well,” Nicole says, “she wants to save you as much as I do. She’s still hoping for a reunion, Waverly.”

The sparkle fades out of Waverly’s eyes instantly, and it's so abrupt that Nicole feels like someone has punched her in the stomach. She drops her bag on the living room floor, and Waverly’s eyes fall on the book inside.

“Is that… the book you ordered?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything in it on Legion?”

“Quite a bit, actually. It doesn’t exact call them Legion, but… they’re in there. I mean, I think it’s them. It’s complicated. And Wendy's not as good with old languages as you are.”

“Wynonna won’t leave me alone about using Wendy’s weird doll to get rid of them.”

“We may have to resort to that, you know.”

“You said you’d support me.”

“And I am. But I think we need to be ready for any possibility. It might not work, Waverly. You need to prepare yourself that you might lose their power.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s harsh and laced with shadow, and Waverly flinches. After everything they’ve been through, after all the support Nicole has given her, Waverly knows she doesn’t deserve it.

“Waverly.” Nicole says it like she’s so tired, like she wants nothing more than to just lie down and never get up again. “I’d _like_ for you to be safe again.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Waverly says and chews her lip.  

Nicole doesn’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, but she gets it. Waverly is under an intense amount of pressure. She’s bound to let it crack through, here and there. She’s only human.

Nicole huffs a laugh through her nose at that thought. _Sure, she is_ , she thinks, as she watches Waverly leaf through the thick leather bound text with a look of delight on her face.

—

Nicole’s not sure exactly what wakes her up. She _was_ dozing on the couch, her feet in Waverly’s lap while she read, last thing she knew, but her feet fall and thump and there’s a sound like she’s never heard in her life.

She blinks and tries to focus, and then she’s off the couch like a rocket.

Waverly is hovering above her, back arched, hair hanging straight down toward the floor. There’s a stream of words pouring from her mouth, enveloped in dark smoke, and Nicole doesn’t even recognize the language.

Nicole reaches for her, wraps her fingers around Waverly’s wrist to pull her down, and the feeling of dread that floods through her nearly knocks her off her feet. She pulls back like she’s been burned.

Slowly, Waverly’s head turns, and Nicole finds herself face to face with Legion.

She involuntarily stumbles back and trips, falling to the floor and catching herself on her elbow. Pain rips up through her arm into her shoulder. The book on the old gods. It’s at her feet. Waverly must have been reading it when—

“Waverly?”

Waverly’s laugh is hollow and full of echoes, a thousand voices behind it.

“Did you think _she_ was really in control? That a little thing like her could possibly contain _us_?”

Nicole’s been trained in a thousand different combat scenarios, but nothing could ever prepare her for something like this. Her cop brain starts combing through possibilities. Her first thought is _Call Wynonna_. But her phone is in her bag, on the other side of Waverly. Along with her gun. Waverly, who is now rotating and spinning, her feet pointing downward, her arms outstretched, hair whipping about her face. Her eyes are as black as ever.

Nicole has never been more frightened in her life, but she pulls herself to her feet and steps forward to meet Waverly, who is drifting toward her, a foot off the ground.

Dimly, in the back of her mind, she thinks how odd it is that she doesn’t have to look down into Waverly’s face. She’s so used to Waverly tucking herself easily under Nicole’s chin, fitting against her perfectly. But _this_ Waverly is eye-level and seriously intimidating.

“Waverly, listen to me—”

Another bone-chilling laugh from Waverly. “Oh, she’s listening. She actually thinks you’re going to save her. She’s crying for you. It’s kind of endearing, actually.”

And then Waverly is moving— _Christ, she’s fast_ — and there’s a searing pain in Nicole’s temple as her whole world goes black.

—

The light from the hallway is dim, but Nicole knows this room.

She’s been here before. But this is the first time she’s had her body with her.

She’s in the cabin, in the rocking chair next to the fireplace. Her neck creaks, and she squints. She lifts a trembling hand to her face, and her fingers come away bloody. Her arms are so heavy.

There are voices coming from another room.

“I can’t touch her. But you can.” Waverly. Or, well. _Waverly and Legion_.

“What makes you think I will?” It’s a man’s voice. One that Nicole doesn’t recognize.

“Do you want to see your daughter again?”

There’s a beat and then the man answers quietly. “You know I do.”

“Well, then, dispatch the Key, and we’ll arrange… visitation rights.”

“Fine.”

There are footsteps against the wooden floorboards, and Nicole pushes the panic back down her throat. She feels sluggish and numb, and not at all in peak fighting shape, let alone against a revenant.

_Dispatch the Key._

_Dispatch._

She reaches for the radio on her shoulder, groping blindly, but it’s not there. She wasn’t on duty. She’s not in her uniform.

Shit.

The footsteps stop with a booted man standing right in front of her. It’s too dim to make out facial features, but his frame is small and thin, and she can see Waverly in his build. He’s holding an axe, and his eyes glow red.

She glances about wildly, looking for something— god, for _anything—_ to defend herself with.

It’s too late.

The revenant brings the axe down over her, and she doesn’t think. Her instinct kicks in and she rolls out of the chair, a tick slower than she anticipated, but quick enough to miss the blow. The axe splits into the chair, and Nicole comes up behind the revenant. She kicks upward behind him and feels her shin connect between his legs. He doubles over and clutches at himself, groaning and sinking to the floor. She pulls the axe from the chair, and stands up, staggering.

There’s something burning in her left eye, and she wipes at it with the back of her sleeve, turning just in time to see Waverly standing behind her.

Soft, strong hands are around her throat faster than she can step back, and she thinks, _Well, this is familiar_ , as the axe clatters to the floor.

Her chest isn’t completely healed yet, and it burns as she struggles, but she’s not going down this time without a fight. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t need to breathe. Maybe it’s because of the bullet hanging around her neck. Whatever the reason, Nicole Haught stands and holds her ground and fights for her life and the life of the woman she loves against an ancient god.

Legion may not be able to suffocate her, but they’re still incredibly strong, and she eventually sinks to one knee under their sheer power, Waverly’s sweet angelic face twisted into something cold and hard and bearing down on her.

She’s on her back now, unable to hold herself up, and Waverly is over her, snarling and seething, both hands pinning Nicole to the floor. Her girlfriend sneers down at her, and Nicole feels pain flow through her chest. Pain that she couldn’t save her, that no matter what she does, Waverly is still infused with this unspeakable evil. Pain that this is the very last image she’ll ever see of the woman she loves so fiercely, a face that she adores, clouded with evil.

The clasp fastens around Waverly’s neck before Waverly even realizes that Nicole has taken off the bullet. There’s a roar of anguish when the brass touches Waverly’s skin, and black smoke pours from Waverly into the room. Nicole can feel the remnants of blue pulsing energy drain out of her, and she’s dimly aware of Waverly’s tear-streaked face hovering above hers, the sweetest voice in her whole world pleading softly to stay with her. And then she feels Waverly’s hands at the back of her head, gentle this time. So gentle. Cradling instead of choking. Calming instead of hurting. 

And she knows. 

She smiles weakly, and Waverly chokes back a sob.

"No..." Waverly says. The tears in her eyes break Nicole's heart, but there's a comfort there too. 

Because she _does_ get to have one last look at this kind, sweet face before it’s over.

And then, there is no energy left in her at all anymore, and the last thought she has before the coldness locks her up is how happy she is to have seen Waverly’s beautiful face, untarnished with shadow, one last time before she dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are *probably* not going to be super happy with the way this one ends, but please, for the love of Juan Carlo, trust me. That's all I can say. 
> 
> Thanks as always to @wanderson20 for keeping this pile of shit together. You're the best.


	8. Salt the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time I left Nicole Haught dead at the end of a chapter for over a year? Yeah, I'm super sorry about that, but hopefully this atones for my sins. 
> 
> If anyone still remembers reading this relic of a fic, this is the exciting conclusion of We Are Legion. There will be one more chapter afterward as an epilogue. 
> 
> Spoilery summary: Waverly is a fucking badass. Nicole is a fucking badass. Wynonna is a fucking badass. EVERYONE is a fucking badass. Oh yeah, and Legion gets what's coming to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to wanderson20 of tumblr for being super awesome and telling me what's what. This wouldn't be what it is without you, and anything I missed is my fault entirely. <3
> 
> Kudos are nice. Comments are nicer! If you enjoyed this (or didn't!) please take a second to drop me a comment. It's completely free and it would mean the world to me. Or you can come holler at me on tumblr - noxinamillionyears
> 
> I hope you guys like this. Thank you for reading. Love.

Wynonna bangs through the cabin’s kitchen door just in time to see Haught clasp the bullet around her baby sister’s neck, sees Legion billowing from Waverly’s mouth and eyes, and she knows she’s got a fraction of a second to decide what to do. There’s a revenant here — _must be Billy_ , Wynonna thinks — but he’s at the bottom of the list, as far as she’s concerned. The real choice comes down to Legion or Haught. She can’t do both. 

She rips two things off of her belt. In one hand is the crude wooden carving Wendy had given her. In the other, a flask full of Wendy’s ridiculous tea. She’d been carrying it around with her, brewed up and ready to trip, since she and Dolls had gone to see her mother — just in case. The doll, the totem, whatever it is, is supposed to contain Legion. The tea… well. Wynonna has no idea exactly how the tea will help.

If Legion gets out, it could destroy Purgatory. Hell, it could destroy the whole Triangle.

But if Haught dies.... Waverly will never forgive her.

It’s not even a difficult choice.

She drops the doll and slams back the tea.

—

It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust. It’s just so goddamn bright here.

 _Where the hell_ …

She’s in a friggin’ _rowboat_.

She rolls her eyes. _Oh for the love of_ —

“Haught!” she calls. The afternoon sun glares up from the water. As far as she can tell, she’s alone. “Haught!” she tries again. “Fantastic. I drank my loony mother’s spiked fish broth shit and now I’m hallucinating the world’s worst family vacation.”

She checks the boat. No oars.

Of course not. 

“My dad used to bring me here.”

Wynonna jumps, and the boat dips, water sloshing up over the side.

“You don’t say. Where are you, Haught? I can’t see you.”

“I don’t know. Here, I think? But nothing’s solid.”

“Okay. Are you in the boat?”

“He died here,” Nicole says absently. “I watched him go. Makes sense that I’d die here too.”

“No one’s dying, Haught,” Wynonna says, standing in the boat. There’s nothing but water. Wynonna, and a boat, and water as far as the eye can see. “Your dad died in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean?”

“It’s not the ocean, it’s… doesn’t matter.”

Wynonna whirls, nearly tips over, and it breaks through her brain like the sun coming through a storm. It’s not the sun that’s hurting her eyes.

It’s Nicole.

She’s everywhere, Wynonna thinks. She  _is_ the light. And she’s retreating.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Wynonna says, and lashes out a trembling hand, clutching, gripping like her life depends on it. The light around her is so bright, she can’t even see her hand anymore, but she holds, feels the pull and the weight, like she’s standing on a cliff, holding Haught up instead of standing in a boat, pulling her down.

_Gravity is a figment of our imagination. Darkness is a lie. There is no door; there is no key. The boundary is broken._

She doesn’t know if she’s thought the words of if Nicole has said them, but her response is, “Settle down, Haught. You’re not going. Not yet.”

_The boundary is broken._

“Yeah, yeah,” Wynonna mutters. “Stay here!” And she pulls, hard.

And Nicole stays.

—

Waverly sees Wynonna stiffen and fall in the kitchen like a chopped down tree, the screaming shadow of Legion making for her like a streaking bullet and wrapping itself around her, a shrieking cyclone until it rushes into her completely, absorbed by the Heir.

“Wynonna!” she screams, but she doesn’t dare let go of Nicole. Her sister is alive, needs her, and Nicole is…

Doesn’t need her anymore. She’s gone.

Waverly forces herself to say the words in her head.

_She’s gone. She died to save you, and she’s not coming back. She’s gone._

_Then why can’t I let go?_

“It’s okay, Little Bit. I’ll get her. You sit tight.”

Billy.

Her father.

Her _revenant_ father.

“What did you call me?” Waverly asks, her voice small.

Billy’s eyes are not burning, his face is not contorted with hate. Even as he hooks his arms under the Heir’s armpits and drags her, boots scuffing, across the floor, his face is calm concern. He lays her next to Waverly and steps back, giving her space.

“I don’t expect you remember,” he says, then. “Last I saw you, you weren’t any bigger than a minute.”

Waverly tries to remember, she does. But it was so long ago. She could have… could have known him all this time. They could have found a way to fit, to build themselves into a family again. She wants to tell him that she’s sorry. 

“You could kill her,” she says instead. “Wynonna. She’s defenseless.”

“And have my dau— have my own blood look at me with betrayal in her eyes?” Billy settles himself in the rocking chair by the fireplace. “I’ve already survived you ripping me to shreds. I don’t think I can live with you hating me, too. No, when she comes to, I’ll accept my fate and die with my boots on.”

Waverly remembers. The blood. Her father’s screams. Legion filling her with the cold and the dark and the hunger, driving her on. She grips Nicole’s hand tighter.

This time she does say it. “I’m sorry.”

Billy taps his thumbs on his knees, barely visible in the darkened cabin. “Well,” he says finally, “didn’t seem like it was you holding the reins, so I’ve just been hanging on to that.”

“I’ve dreamed of this day for long. What I would actually say to you if I met you. None of this,” she looks around at the blood stains on the floor, Wynonna’s rigid body, Nicole’s pale face, “is even close to what I imagined this would be like.”

“Now I’m the one who’s sorry, Little Bit. I should have come to you. I should have—” He clears his throat, and it reminds Waverly of Doc. “I should have tried. I just didn’t know how.”

“It’s okay,” Waverly says, and she means it. This is not anything she would have chosen for herself, but she knows that it’s something that belongs to her and that’s enough. “Nicole said that Wendy didn’t want to leave you.”

His eyes crinkle in a smile. He’s younger than Doc, Waverly realizes. He can’t be any older than she is now, really, a portrait frozen in time. He could easily pass for her brother, she thinks. “It’s more like she didn’t want to leave _you_. You girls were everything to her. Her moon and stars, she used to say. I was just the lucky bastard who got a front row seat for a while.”

“You’re not like other revenants,” Waverly says, and Billy stiffens in his chair, folds his hands in his lap.

“You’re wrong, Little Bit. I’m cursed, straight down, same as any of them. The only thing that makes me different is you.”

Waverly’s not sure what to make of that, and she turns her attention to her sister.

Wynonna’s body is stiff, her eyes closed. Her hair is darker, and Waverly wonders if her own hair turned dark when Legion was in her.  When Legion held the reigns, as Billy put it. She hesitates. She’s the gate, after all. What happens if she touches Wynonna and Legion takes control again, what then? They’d be screwed for sure. But, looking down into Wynonna’s pained face, Waverly finds that she doesn’t care.

She’d wondered after her mother for years, and she’d longed for someone other than Ward Earp to call her father for just as long. But even when Wynonna was off running from her past, she was Waverly’s family, and Waverly would have done anything for her, if Wynonna had let her. She still would.

Screw the curse. Screw the cold and the darkness, and … fuck it. Screw Legion.

If she lets Legion back in, if she gives up the reins, she might never meet her mother. She might never get to know Billy, in whatever capacity he’s able to offer. Wynonna might be the heir, but even heroes need help sometimes, and if Waverly can give even the smallest bit of strength to her sister now, she’ll do it, and damn the consequences. 

She reaches out her empty hand, and when her skin touches Wynonna’s, Legion and Billy Clanton and even the lifeless body of Nicole lying next to her are the last things on her mind.

Billy watches as his only child’s eyes glaze over in confused recognition.

“Mama?”

—

“Hey, baby girl,” Wendy says, and it’s so familiar, so very much like Wynonna that Waverly squeezes her eyes shut against the tears.

Her mother is a tangle of dark curly hair and bright flowy scarves over a denim jacket. She walks closer and closer and then, to Waverly, she’s as big as a house, until she overshadows everything Waverly’s ever known. She can feel herself creak open, almost like she’s one of the those old saloon doors in the Spaghetti Westerns that Doc’s obsessed with, pushing wide and then swinging back the other way with momentum.

And then Wendy _passes through_ her, and Waverly is swinging back again on her hinges, and it’s the oddest thing, but somehow Wendy is standing right here in Billy’s cabin, looking down over her daughters on the floor.

She smiles when she sees Waverly, and Waverly very nearly drops Nicole’s hand, overcome with the urge to hug her mother.  

“Funny thing about gates,” Wendy says, setting her huge canvas bag on the table, “is that once they’re open, anyone can use them.”

“Mama?” Waverly asks again. 

Wendy nods at Nicole’s body. “Don’t let go,” she says. “No matter what. If you do, we can’t get her back. Not ever.”

“I know,” Waverly says, and she can’t explain _how_ she knows, but she does. It’s like how you’re born knowing you have to pull air into your lungs to keep living. No one teaches you. You just do it.  

“Of course you do. You’re a natural. Much better than I was at your age.”

This is too surreal. Her mother is here, in her father’s house, telling her after all these years that she’s a gifted... what? Witch? She’s never thought of herself as anything other than Waverly Earp. “Except that I don’t know _how_ to get her back,” Waverly says.  

Wendy’s eyes crinkle. “Don’t you?”

Waverly thinks about this. “I mean, I have an idea, but we’d need…” Waverly’s jaw flexes. “A coven.”

“That’s my girl,” Wendy says. And then, “It’s a good thing we have one.”

“But we don’t. There’s only two of us.”

“Not two,” Wendy says. “Three.” She rummages in her bag and retrieves a small round container. She screws off the lid and holds a pinch of the powder that’s inside beneath Wynonna’s nose. “We’ll need to move them. But, baby girl, you cannot let go. We’ll need help.”

Wynonna inhales, the powder disappearing, and she coughs and stirs, and her body relaxes. More like sleep and less like rigor mortis.

There’s a gust of frigid air, and then a Southern drawl says from the doorway, “Help, we can offer.” Waverly knows without looking that it belongs to Doc. “Hello, Billy. Been a long time.”

“Doc,” Billy says, but makes no move to rise.

Waverly counts fifteen heartbeats in the following silence. “Awkward,” she singsongs under her breath.

That breaks the tension.

“Waverly, you okay?” Dolls says as he scoops Wynonna up, bridal style. Wynonna relaxes against him. Doc hauls Nicole up at the same time, mirroring Dolls, with Waverly wobbling upwards in between them, careful not to let go. Nicole’s head lolls against Doc’s shoulder, and Waverly feels the nausea bubble in her stomach.

She’s so pale. Empty of color. Empty of warmth. Even her hair, normally so red and soft and inviting, seems dull and lifeless. Waverly wants to lie down with her and never get up again, but she knows that she can't. Not now, not ever. If they're going to have a chance, Waverly has to keep fighting. For both of them.

As the five of them make their way to the truck, Waverly can’t be positive, but she thinks she sees her mother and father gaze at one another for one soft, solitary moment before she’s back out into the biting dark.

—

How long has she been in this damn rowboat?

She’s lying in it now, across the seats, clutching the light against her stomach. The glaring sun is gone. There was a brilliant afternoon, and then suddenly, there wasn’t. There was cold and the water became choppy, and Wynonna began shivering a while ago. It feels like dusk now, nearly night, and a palmful of light is the only light that’s left, and that is flickering against the cold that’s trying to claim it.

“Hey,” Wynonna says, “hey! Tell me about your dad.”

“He loved to fish.” Nicole’s voice is hoarse, little more than a whisper, and Wynonna strains to hear it. “This was his place. We were here when he — when it happened. He was eating a tuna fish sandwich that we’d packed in the cooler. ‘Up for a picnic on the lake today, Nic?’ he’d say, and we’d pack up the cooler with sandwiches and soda pop and come out here and sit, just us.” The light sputters, and Wynonna thinks it might go out. “He didn’t finish his sandwich that day. He took a bite and then he looked at me like something was wrong. I thought the tuna was bad.”

Someone is crying, somewhere.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Nicole’s light brightens a bit, warmth surging through her.

“Don’t pity me, Earp,” she says, and Wynonna knows she’s fighting. She can feel it. She also knows that sooner or later, the fight goes out of you, no matter how strong you are.

“Stop trying to warm me up, Haught,” she says. “Save your strength.”

“Anyway,” the light sinks back down, and Wynonna cradles it. “He had an aneurysm. He died before his body hit the boat, they said. I was twelve. And I had to row him back to shore.”

“Dude,” Wynonna says, because it’s the only thing she can think of. “That sucks.”

“I took a junior paramedics course a few months later and started training to become a cop.”

“At twelve? Jesus, Haught. You barely got to be a kid.”

She’s still in the rowboat but suddenly the water is gone. Wynonna sits up.

There’s a cracked wooden floor beneath the boat, and it tilts until she rolls out of it and sits up. It’s so dark that Wynonna can barely see now, but she knows where they are. She’d know it anywhere, in any light.

“We’re at the Homestead.”

“Home,” Nicole agrees. “I’d — I’d rather it happen here. The only place I’ve ever felt—” 

“Nothing’s happening anywhere, Haught. We’re gonna laugh about this one day,” Wynonna says, and pushes herself to her feet, still cradling Nicole's light. “You and me and Waverly.”

It’s dim now, smaller than an old half dollar, and just as tarnished.

“Nicole?”

There are no tears anymore. There is no warmth. Nicole is barely a flicker, and Wynonna knows that they're out of time.

“Goddamn it, Haught, hold on.”

Hold on for _what_ , Wynonna couldn’t have said.

—

Waverly bounces along in the back of Wynonna’s blue and white pickup across the salt flats, Wynonna’s hand clamped in one hand and Nicole’s in the other.

There’s little to do back here but think, and there are a million thoughts whirling through Waverly’s mind. _This_ is clearly not Nicole. So. Where is she? She had to go somewhere, right? Maybe she’s still in Purgatory. Maybe she’s up among the stars, the very ones that are blinking out of the sky with each new sliver of dawn that streaks across the sky. The light in Nicole’s eyes, whatever it is that makes her _her_ , it had to go somewhere. So why couldn’t it be here, with Waverly, still with Waverly, always with Waverly? How on earth is she expected to let it go, just like that?   

They were everything together. Unstoppable. Imperfectly perfect. How could something as common as death separate them? None of this makes any sense.

 _I go where you go_ , Nicole had once told her. So, how was it fair that Waverly couldn’t follow? Couldn’t bring her back?

Her mother and father are in the cab, alone and talking for the first time in twenty five years, and Waverly wishes she could know what words are between them. The body language is difficult to read through the grimey window. Mama stares straight ahead, driving, while Billy leans forward, elbows on his knees.

Waverly’s thoughts mix with her tears and dry on her face long before the pickup reaches the place where Constance is buried. She has to stay strong. She has to believe that this will work, that she will see Nicole again.

It has to work.

It _has_ to.

The truck skids to a stop, and Wendy slides down out of the cab of the truck, scarves trailing out behind her, silver earrings jingling in her hair, Billy behind her, hauling a shovel from the back and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Hello, sister,” Wendy says.

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to be surprised to see you,” Constance says. “I may be stuck up to my neck in this shit, but I still have my eyes.”

Wendy drops her bag to the ground in front of Constance, and dust billows up around her face.

“You know I can free you,” Wendy says, and Constance hums.

“I’m listening.”

“You help us bring her back, and you can have it.”

Waverly knows that if Wynonna were awake, she’d put up a fight over this, but she’s not awake. And Mama must have a plan.

Doc and Dolls pull up half a second later in Dolls’ SUV, and climb into the bed of Wynonna’s truck.

Wendy waits until the five of them maneuver awkwardly off the truck bed and over to the stone witch, who just rolls her eyes.

“It’s astounding to me that any of you have put up such a fight against the curse,” she says. "The sheer incompetence is honestly overwhelming."

Waverly looks down at her. “Give her back to me,” she is what answers, and there is authority in her voice.

“Well,” Constance tells Wendy, delighted, “the stone certainly follows the boulder’s path. She’s like a tiny little you.”

“She’s stronger,” Wendy says, and Constance looks amused.

“I guess we’ll see. Bringing someone back from the dead is not easy, little girl. And yours has been dead for a while.”

“Just like yours were,” Waverly says, and she has no idea how she feels so completely calm, but she knows that this right here? This is where she belongs. She’s in her element. And something tugs at the back of her mind about that, but she can’t think why.

The ice and cold, the shadow.

The gate, the key.

 _The Blacksmith, she’d known_ , Waverly thinks. _She saw my place in all this before any of us._

The boundary.

_praesidio ei_

“Bill,” Wendy says softly, “what I asked you to do?” And he grunts and digs the shovel into the earth, hellbent on raising Constance Clootie from her living grave.

“Lower her. Here,” Constance says nodding her head to the spot while Billy digs, and Waverly drops to her knees between Wynonna and Nicole. She’s been holding their hands for so long, she feels like she’s fused with the two of them. A conduit, a door.

 _The_ door.

She doesn’t feel the swinging like she did when her mother entered the Triangle, but she knows it’s there, all the same. She wonders as the salt crunches under her knees if she’ll always be this way, a door that others can use against her will. A door that only Nicole can lock and unlock.

 _I need you back_ , Waverly thinks. _I need you to help me stop them_. _I can't do this without you._

While Billy pulls Constance up out of the ground, Wendy unpacks her bag, arranging items on the earth.

“Constance,” the salt witch says, and Constance collapses to the ground, her muscles soft with disuse. “To the west, please.  Baby girl, you’re the North Point.” When Wendy drops gently to her knees and says, “East,” Waverly can see that they’re a perfect mirror of the Ghost River Triangle, the three of them, with Nicole in the center.

Doc grips the handle of his revolver and chews the burnt out cigarillo in his mouth.

“They know what they’re doing,” Dolls says in low voice, words for only Doc to hear.

“You hope,” is Doc’s answer.

“If you betray us,” Waverly warns Constance, “I’ll kill you myself.”

"Such strong words for such a wispy little thing." 

“Today, we are on the same side,” Wendy says, “Sisters of a common thread. No force can rend us.”

They’re quiet, the three of them, for so long that Billy opens his mouth to speak and Dolls shakes his head softly.

And then they begin.

This is a ritual that Waverly must somehow already know in her heart, with Doc and Dolls and Billy looking on around them. She feels safe with them here, in a half circle around Waverly and Wynonna, ready to intervene should the worst happen. They are her family. 

“ _Aperta est ianua_ ,” Wendy says. “ _Non potest intrare clavis_.” The sun is rising, and the flats are lighter with each passing moment. “The way is guarded by three. One of Salt.”

Wendy keeps one hand splayed on the salty earth, open and connected, and with the other unwraps a bundle, small and round, wrapped in linen. She lets the linen fall away and lays the earthen disc on Nicole’s chest. In it is a small blue mound of the finest salt, rising to a perfect peak despite being wrapped only in linen during transport. Wendy pinches off the peak and rubs it against Nicole’s colorless lips, where it sticks in clumps, stark against the backdrop of Nicole’s drained face.

“One of Stone,” Constance says.

With a shaky hand, she unwraps the second bundle, letting the linen fall away to reveal a hand-carved stone knife. She can barely lift it but her grip is strong and sure, as if it’s an old friend.

In this moment, there is so much in Waverly’s heart, things that are finally starting to come into focus. She still doesn’t fully understand it all, the fragments that have been whirling inside of her all this time, but they’re starting to arrange themselves into something she recognizes.

The Blacksmith’s insistence that the skull, the dead thing, belongs to her, is safe only with her. The bullet, and its enchantment that she hadn’t fully realized even when she was imbuing it with power. The power to raise the dead. Legion. She’d fought against them, fought hard, when everyone said that no one could. Waverly had. Her heritage, her dual nature. The gate and the key. The boundary that only she could breach.

_praesidio ei_

The shadow tugs at the back of mind once more and then steps into the light. At once, she sees it, her place in all of this. She knows exactly who she is, and she speaks it with authority.

Her element. The thing that courses through her veins.

“And One,” Waverly says, “of Life.”

Waverly Earp.

The Life Witch.

The look on Wendy’s face is one of such surprise and pride, as if she’s been waiting her whole life to find out who Waverly is and is so _so_ proud of her, that Waverly nearly loses her grip. She remembers why she’s here, kneeling in the salt, and she leans forward as far as she can, far enough so that the Stone Witch can raise her crude stone knife to Waverly’s lips. Waverly does not have time to steel herself against the pain.

There’s a quick downward thrust, and Waverly wonders if Constance has sliced her bottom lip completely off. Her blood drips down into the pile of salt on Nicole’s chest, and then Waverly remembers her task and she dips and presses her bleeding mouth against Nicole’s.

For the first time in an hour, Wynonna’s hand flexes in hers. 

There’s warmth moving through them, faint and flickering, like a candle flame about to burn itself out. It winks and flutters up her arm, through her chest and up her throat, and she can feel the moment that Nicole’s life swings the door on the hinges and pushes through her.

_Once they’re open, anyone can use them._

There’s a rushing, and a pain that splits Waverly down the middle, and then air rushes out of her lungs and into Nicole’s mouth.

She swings on her hinges, and sits back, breathless, just in time to see the little dish of salt rise up high on Nicole’s chest and then sink down low enough to slide a fraction of an inch.

A sob chokes its way up Waverly’s throat at the sight of her girl's lungs pumping, and then several things happen at once.

She drops Wynonna’s hand to cup Nicole’s face, already turning pink with life and warmth. Constance Clootie raises her knife a plunges it downward with a horrible twisted shout, and Wendy flings herself forward, taking the blow deep in her shoulder.

“Mama!” Waverly staggers up, catches her mother, who collapses against her. The wound in her back oozes dark red, soaking her jacket. It’s on Waverly’s hands, they’re covered in it, and she searches for something, for anything to help her keep the life in her mother.

“Legion,” Constance cries, “The blood of the witch calls you forth!”

There’s a horrible rush of icy water in Waverly’s ears as Legion screams and thunders out of Wynonna’s mouth like the water from a busted fire hydrant in the summertime, and Waverly looks up just in time to see that awful black shadow tunneling towards her.

She’s on her feet and stumbling forward, her right leg asleep from kneeling for so long, and she reaches Constance Clootie just as Legion reaches her, howling and cursing and swearing this will be her final act, an agonizing cacophony in Waverly’s mind.

Well.

Is she the Gate or is she the fucking Gate?

She swings both hands up, grasps the Stone Witch by her cheeks, and pulls her in, pressing the bleeding lips that just gave life back to Nicole against Constance’s cracked, sun-scorched lips.

Her timing is impeccable.

The moment her lips touch the Stone Witch’s skin, Legion touches hers. The bullet against her chest glows hot, pulses with a vibrant blue light that seeps through Waverly and shines out of her face from within, and she feels the door swing wild and shudder, and then burst off the hinges as Legion careens through her and into Constance Clootie.

Constance stumbles back, pushing against Waverly, and Waverly follows, unwilling to let this one chance go. She’ll never get another.

It feels like she lives a lifetime in the single moment, a million or more demons pouring through her into Constance until she feels the last and pushes herself away with all the strength she can muster, breath heavy and blood pouring from her mouth.

Constance falls backward now, her hands clawing at her temples, screams curdling through the air.

Doc is on his feet, his gun drawn, aiming wildly, waiting for a chance to bring her down.

“Leave me!” she shrieks, blood running down her face in rivulets now. “I have served you faithfully! Leave me in peace!”

Wendy is by her side in an instant, breathing words into her ear that Waverly cannot hear over the screams, and the dark red on Wendy’s back turns lighter until it’s not blood at all, but a fine white salt pouring from the wound, cascading down her back and making a pile at her feet. 

It swirls up, driven by an imperceptible wind, a tiny white tornado, and whirls around the stone witch’s feet.

Wendy grips Constance and hauls her to her feet, gripping a terrified face in her strong hands. Constance’s body stiffens against her and slowly, consumed from the feet up, turns to salt as Waverly looks on, horrified.

The last of the screams echo through the flats as the Stone Witch’s face hardens, and Wendy staggers back. She drops to the ground, her sister towering above her.

A perfect statue, frozen forever in abject horror.

And then there’s a horrible ringing gunshot and Constance Clootie erupts into a shower of salt as a bullet shatters her frozen form, scattering her back to the earth in millions of tiny, pouring fragments.

Waverly whips around, hair splaying out behind her in a wild arch.

Wynonna is lying on her side, Peacemaker extended and its filigree still glowing a hot orange.

“Either I’ve got the worst hangover in the world or Mama’s disgusting tea worked,” she says, and Waverly runs to her and flings her arms around Wynonna’s neck, sobbing. Wynonna doesn’t hug her back. “Still paralyzed, Waves,” she says. “Mostly. I think Peacemaker just really wanted that bitch dead and gone.”

“Wasn’t she tied to…?”

“Shit,” Wynonna says. “Doc.” 

He’s lying next to her, gasping for breath like a fish kicked up on the shore, and Waverly rips his shirt open, searching. Thick red oozes out of his chest, a mirror of Constance’s wound. There’s a soft smile on his face, and he says in a pained voice, “Well, this _is_ quite a satisfying end to my chapter.”

“Shut up. It isn’t the end of anything,” Wynonna tells him.

Saving two lives in one day seems damn near impossible, but Waverly has claimed her element and now it’s time to get to work.  

The Life Witch.

She pulls items from Wendy’s bag — a small bundle of green roots, some moss, the blue salt, a small silver button, the kind that looks ancient, like it came off of an old civil war uniform. Waverly works quickly and quietly, without instruction, like she’s been doing this her entire life, and Wynonna can only look on and wait, worry etched onto her face.

Dolls pulls her up and supports her while Waverly works.

She works until the sun is high in the sky. Wynonna’s paralysis has worn off and Dolls has turned loose of her to let her pace a new gully in the salt flats. Nicole sits propped beside Dolls in the back of Wynonna’s truck, sipping water from Dolls’ thermos, looking on with tired, grateful eyes, regaining her own strength and waiting with misty eyes to see if Waverly can save Doc too.

At last, Waverly rocks back on her heels, and wipes her brow with the back of her hand.

“There,” she says. “We’ll just have to wait and see now.”

Wynonna pulls Waverly up and throws her arms around her baby sister’s neck, and the two of them stand together over Doc, until Wynonna backs away and says, “You better go and check on Nicole. I held that light in that rowboat for-fucking-ever and it almost went out.”

Waverly’s brow crinkles, and she says, “What?” but Wynonna couldn't explain it if she wanted to, so she just kind of half shoves Waverly in the direction of the truck.

Waverly doesn’t make it that far.

Wendy is lying in the dust, half buried in salt, her head in Billy’s lap, while he looks down at her and strokes her hair.

When he looks up, Waverly sees for the first time exactly how much he loved her. How much he still does.

“The last thing she said was, ‘If anyone can save him, she can,’” he tells her, tears in his revenant eyes.

Waverly is dimly aware that there are words coming out of her mouth, but the only thing she knows for sure is she can’t bring her back. The moment she touches her mother’s face, she knows. The light has gone out, forever, and there is no way back. 

Wynonna is by her side now, crying and saying, “Mama?” over and over.

She wasn’t here.

Neither of them were.

There was no one to keep her from flickering out, no one to give her a way back.

The past few weeks finally catch up to Waverly and she sobs against her mother’s chest, half held by her father, who comforts her as best he can.

Wynonna’s hand is on her shoulder, and Waverly looks up at her with swollen, red eyes. “Please, Wynonna,” she says. “Please don’t take him from me too.”

“I won’t, baby girl,” Wynonna promises. “Not today.”

—

Nicole waits for her, legs swinging off the back of the pickup, giving Waverly space. Time to process, time to grieve with her family.

“Hey,” she says when Waverly can finally drag herself away, arms wrapped around her middle, still sniffling and tear-stained.

“Hi,” she says back, and then Nicole is dropping out of the truck and wrapping her up.

Waverly reaches up a hand and touches Nicole’s cheek, feather-light.

Pink. Warm.

Full of life.

Fresh tears explode and she buries her face against Nicole’s chest, giving herself over to them. Two sides of the same coin - grief for her mother and relief over Nicole, all mingled together, and soaking Nicole’s shirt.

“I don’t even know how to thank you, Waves,” Nicole says against her hair, and then she doesn’t say anything because Waverly is kissing her.

When Waverly pulls back, the tears on her cheeks break Nicole’s heart.

“Hey,” Nicole says, wiping them away.

“Happy tears,” Waverly says. “Mostly. I wasn’t sure it would work.”

Nicole sucks in a breath and leans back to take in the sky. When she looks back at Waverly, she’s smiling through her own tears. “Still think you need Legion’s power to be a badass?”

It’s rhetorical, Waverly knows, but she still tosses her hair and says, “no,” in a mock sullen voice.

She lifts the chain over her head and holds the bullet between them, running a thumb over it. “I’d feel better if you’d still wear it,” she says, and Nicole ducks her head and lets Waverly put it on her without argument.

“What was it like,” Waverly asks, toying with the bullet against Nicole’s chest.

“Being dead?” Nicole asks, and Waverly hums. “Well, there was light, lots of light. I think it was leading me or holding me or… I don’t know, Waves, it’s hard to put into words.” She rests her chin on Waverly’s head. “Wynonna was there.”

“Was she?” Waverly murmurs, and Nicole thinks that she might already know.

“She… brought me to the Homestead. I think. I was looking for my dad. It’s kind of all muddled now, the farther we get away from it.”

“Wynonna said you were in a... rowboat.”

“Actually, I think she _was_ the boat. Or something. She brought me home. I almost let go, but she wouldn’t let me. I’m sorry,” she says, and Waverly has no idea why. “And then I saw a doorway and I knew that she’d brought me to you.” Waverly feels the softest kiss pressed to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“I’m happy that I got to know her before she… she’s gone.”

The tears come again, and Nicole holds her though them, lets her cry and grieve, pressed tight against Nicole's beating heart. 

Eventually, Waverly sniffles against her and says, “You’re getting stronger.”

“I am, but all I really want to do is just go home with you. I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.” 

When Waverly kisses Nicole again, she tries her best to find the gate deep within, to let Nicole lock it up, but there is no gate. No glass box, no swinging door.

There's nothing there but Waverly Earp, full of hope and love and life. 


End file.
